


The Revolutionary

by at_least_i_didnt_fake_it



Series: The Kumars [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asian Neville Longbottom, BAMF Hermione Granger, Bisexual Sirius Black, Black Hermione Granger, Canon Rewrite, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/M, Gen, Indian Character, Indian Harry Potter, Indian James Potter, Indian Potter Family (Harry Potter), M/M, Non-binary Tonks, Original Character Death(s), Original Character-centric, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pansexual Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley is a Good Friend, Tags May Change, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:07:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 37,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25555576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/at_least_i_didnt_fake_it/pseuds/at_least_i_didnt_fake_it
Summary: Nobody could have guessed, just by looking at her on Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters with trepidation written in her eyes ahead of her first year, that Revati Kumar would be one of the biggest troublemakers Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had ever seen. She seemed like the quiet, studious sort, a shoe-in for Ravenclaw. But on her very first train ride to Hogwarts, Revati befriended one Hermione Granger... and the rest, of course, was history.Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Harry Potter, which is all JK Rowling's intellectual property. Revati Kumar is my original character.Author's note: Yes, this is your typical 'secret daughter of Sirius Black' cliche fanfiction, because brown girls deserve cliches too. Same universe as my Marauder's era story, The Diplomat (also unfinished). does not matter if you read in order, both are being updated currently.
Relationships: Daphne Greengrass/Original Female Character(s), George Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Lee Jordan/Fred Weasley, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks, Sirius Black/Kingsley Shacklebolt, Sirius Black/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Kumars [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1851892
Comments: 19
Kudos: 46





	1. Chapter 1

Nobody could have guessed, just by looking at her on Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters with trepidation written in her eyes ahead of her first year, that Revati Kumar would be one of the biggest troublemakers Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had ever seen.

She stood in silence next to her mother as children of all ages passed around her, laughing and talking and boarding the train. Owls hooted in excitement and cats slunk about the platform as their owners bustled about, some dressed in Muggle clothes, others already in school robes, all restless with anticipation of another fine year at Hogwarts. Awed by the bright colors and chaos around her, she could do or say nothing, content for that moment to just take it in. She herself had only one suitcase, with an Undetectable Extension Charm that her mother had placed on it when they were packing. Her pet toad Mango was perched on top, and, as a generally obedient creature, had not moved an inch without express permission from Reva or her mum.

“Oh, Revu, I’m going to miss you so much,” her mother finally said, turning to her. There was a bittersweet look on Anjali Kumar’s tired face, pride and love in her daughter crossed with the weight of missing her already.

“I’ll miss you too, Mum,” Reva said, giving her mother a tight hug.

She had her mum’s toasted golden skin and large, brown eyes, and jet black hair, but that was where the resemblance ended. Anjali had a heart-shaped face with the edges rounded and softened. Her nose was thin and long, and her shoulder length hair was silky and straight. Revati, on the other hand, had much sharper features and fuller lips, and her hair fell in zig-zagging waves around her more square face. Her mum said she resembled her dad quite a bit, but Revati was neither impressed or interested.

For as long as Reva could remember, it had just been her and her mum. Anjali was a magical naturalist, and though she’d specialized in diplomatic relations with intelligent magical species in her youth, she had stopped once Revati was born to take care of her daughter. Now she worked for the Ministry, and though she hated her low-paying job, she didn’t seem to have any luck finding a new one. 

But despite the stress, Anjali had never made Revati feel like a burden, and the two of them were close. They were together all the time, just the two of them, except on Sunday nights when Revati’s uncle (well, a family friend, but she called him uncle. It was a brown thing) came over for dinner. There was nobody Revati respected more than her mother, and her mother had always respected her back, never shying away from the truth when Revati asked a question. She wasn’t kidding when she said she was going to miss her mum. 

The train let out a loud whistle and Revati took that as her cue. Giving her mother one last hug, she boarded the train with her luggage and Mango.

There didn’t seem to be any open compartments, so Revati doubled back and tried to find approachable people. She ended up outside a door with a girl about her age, with bushy black hair, large brown eyes, and dark skin. The girl was immersed in a book Revati recognized, but had never read: Hogwarts, a History. Smiling a bit shyly, she knocked on the compartment door.

The girl looked up with a start.

“Hello,” Revati shifted awkwardly. “Sorry to bother you, it’s just that, well, there are no empty compartments and…”

“Oh!” The girl said in surprise, before beaming at Revati. Her front teeth were a little big. “Would you like to sit with me? I’d love some company!”

“That would be great,” Revati said, smiling in relief. “You don’t mind toads, right? This is Mango.” She indicated towards her pet.

“Of course not!” The girl said. “Mango’s a wonderful name for a toad.”

She walked in then, and, upon depositing Mango on her seat, tried to haul her luggage up. The other girl put her book aside and helped her, and the two of them managed to get it in the storage space. 

“I’m Hermione,” the other girl said, sticking her hand out. “Hermione Granger.”

“Revati Kumar,” Revati smiled as she shook it. “I’m a first year.”

“Me too,” Hermione grinned. Revati decided she liked the other girl’s smile, for it was welcoming and open. 

She glanced out the window and caught her mum scanning the compartment windows. Beaming, she stuck her head out and waved, just as the train started to take off.

“Goodbye, Mum!” She yelled, smiling. Anjali caught sight of her and waved back. Revati kept her head out the window until the train had fully left the platform and her mother was swallowed by the crowd.

When she brought her head back in, she smiled sheepishly at Hermione. “Sorry for ignoring you there.”

“No need to apologize,” Hermione said, “I understand. I would have done the same, but my parents are non-magical, so as soon as I boarded the train the Ministry person escorting them took them home.”

“Oh,” Revati said in surprise, “Aren’t they allowed to stay?”

“Now that they know how to get on and off the platform, they’ll be allowed to stay as long as they’d like for every other train ride,” Hermione said. “I don’t mind, it’s all very exciting, anyway, going to Hogwarts! I didn’t know I was magical, of course, so I’m absolutely thrilled!”

Revati gave her a warm smile as Mango hopped on her lap. “It’s really exciting!” She agreed. “I am a bit nervous though, about the Sorting and all.”

“Oh, where do you think you’ll be?” Hermione asked, eyes widening with interest.

“Well, my mum was in Ravenclaw,” Revati said, “But I dunno, I’m not particularly studious.”

“Ravenclaw would be nice,” Hermione agreed. “Is it common for children to get Sorted in their parents’ house?”

“Somewhat,” Revati said, “But it’s not unusual to be in a different one. There are some really old families that have been in specific houses for generations, I think, but for the most part it’s really a tossup.”

“Well what about you then? Mum was in Ravenclaw, was your Dad there too?”

“No idea,” Revati shrugged. “I’ve never met him.”

Hermione looked horrified with herself. “Oh—I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to assume—”

“It’s okay,” Revati said, “My mum’s the best parent I could ask for.”

“Right, of course.” Hermione smiled, seemingly relieved that she hadn’t ruined their budding friendship. “Any siblings?”

“No, it’s just me and Mum,” Revati replied. “Most of her immediate family died when she was young, so she moved in with an aunt here. She has some family back in India, and who knows about my dad. Mum says I have a cousin somewhere in England, but she mails him on Christmas and his birthday every year and he never responds.”

“That’s awful!” Hermione said. Revati shrugged.

“I’m sure it is, for her,” she said slowly. “I never knew any of them.” Then, deciding they’d better get on a lighter topic, she nodded at the book in Hermione’s hand. “You know, my mum told me to read Hogwarts: A History, but I was too lazy. Is it any good?”

The next hour passed swiftly, with the two girls laughing and chatting and getting to know each other. Just after noon, the trolley lady came by, and Revati bought herself and her new friend each a pumpkin pasty before pocketing her change. Her mum had given her a Sickle before she boarded the train, and she now had nine Knuts left, which was not enough to get anything else. Hermione smiled gratefully at her, and with the food, their friendship was solidified.

At around four in the afternoon, the girls decided to get changed into their school robes. Their uniforms were completely black, and Hermione explained to Revati that they would change to house colors once they were Sorted. 

A knock sounded at the door, and Revati and Hermione looked up to see a boy about their age, looking very sorry for himself. He had a round face and was quite short, with dark hair and tanned skin.

“Hello,” he said glumly, “Have you by any chance seen a toad?”

Hermione glanced down at Revati’s lap, where a tranquil Mango was resting. “Erm, I assume you don’t mean Revati’s?”

The boy glanced at her toad in surprise. “I thought I was the only one!” He said. “Toads aren’t very popular, are they?”

“Well, no,” Revati admitted, “But I quite like them. Mango’s been my toad for about three years now, and she’s awfully fun.” 

The boy smiled a bit at that, before seeming to remember his predicament. He deflated, frowning. “Well, anyway—Trevor, my toad, is missing. I know he boarded the train with me, but I took a nap and when I woke up, I couldn’t find him anywhere!”

“Well, do you want us to help you look?” Hermione asked kindly.

The boy looked hesitant. “I wouldn’t want to bother you…”

“Please,” Revati said warmly, “It’s no bother at all. I’m Revati, by the way.”

“I’m Hermione,” her friend introduced herself.

“Neville,” the boy said. “Thank you both so much.”

“It’s no problem, Neville.” Hermione said.

The two girls got up. Revati picked up Mango and said, “If you can find Trevor, please bring him back to Neville.”

She set her toad down and Mango went hopping off.

“Oh! Your toad’s run away, too!” Neville said in dismay.

“She’ll come back,” Revati replied. “She always does.”

The three first years set off down the corridor, knocking on compartment doors.

“Has anyone seen a toad?” Hermione asked two boys around their age. “Neville’s lost one.”

“We haven’t seen it,” said one of the boys. He was tall and gangly and freckly, with shockingly ginger hair. He had his wand out.

“Are you doing magic?” Asked Hermione with excitement. She dashed in and sat down. Revati and Neville followed her in but didn’t sit. The ginger looked a bit annoyed, and the other boy seemed taken aback.

“Well?” Hermione asked expectantly. Her eyes were shining.

The boy cleared his throat and said some sort of rhyme, jabbing his wand at the sleeping rat in front of him. Nothing happened.

Hermione, likely exhilarated both at the prospect of making new friends and nervous now that they were closer to school, started to go on and on about her own attempts at magic, saying about a paragraph in one breath and barely remembering to introduce herself at the end.

It seemed to overwhelm the boys, who looked at each other in astonishment.

“Er—I’m Ron Weasley.”

“I’m Revati Kumar,” Revati put in.

“Harry Potter.”

Hermione launched into another monologue at that, but Revati instead surveyed the boy with raised eyebrows. She didn’t know Harry Potter was in their year, though she supposed given the year You-Know-Who was vanquished, he would be either in her year or the ones directly above or below. He had toasted bronze skin and messy black hair, with bright, jarringly green eyes. She couldn’t really see his scar, as it was covered by his bangs, but she didn’t doubt he was who he said.

She wondered absently where he’d been living for the past ten years, so hidden that no wizard knew where he was.

“Do either of you know what house you’ll be in?” Hermione was saying, but she didn’t pause to let them answer. “I’ve been asking Revati about it and I hope I’m in Gryffindor, though Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad…”

“Hermione,” Revati said gently, correctly interpreting the irritated expressions on the boys’ faces. “We’d better go look for Trevor.”

“Oh!” Hermione looked up. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” She got up then, a quick whirl of bushy hair and long robes. Revati and Neville walked out, Hermione on her heels.


	2. Chapter 2

The three first years had no luck in finding poor Neville’s lost toad. After dropping a gloomy Neville back at his compartment with earnest promises that they’d keep an eye out, Hermione and Revati headed back to their own compartment. Suddenly, a loud yell sounded from a compartment down the corridor, and exchanging looks of alarm, the two young witches raced towards it, only to find three boys slinking away. Revati peered inside the compartment to see that it was the one Hermione had invited herself into, Harry’s and Ron’s.

“What’s going on?” Hermione asked.

“Are you both okay?” Revati added.

The boys ignored them both, as Harry began cleaning up spilled sweets and Ron checked over his rat. “Unbelievable! He’s gone to sleep!” Then, still ignoring the girls, Ron turned to Harry. “Have you met Malfoy before?”

“Malfoy?” Revati asked before she could help herself. “What’s this about Malfoy?”

Ron looked at her with thinly concealed suspicion. “Why, are you a friend of his?”

Revati shrugged. “Don’t know him, but my mum works in the Ministry and she says his dad’s a nasty piece of work.”

Ron glanced at her again, but this time his gaze was appraising. “My dad says the same thing.” He turned back to Harry. “How do you know him?”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, revealing a jagged white scar running down his forehead like a bolt of lightning, as he explained that he’d met Draco Malfoy before when he was shopping for his school things. He’d said something about blood, it seemed, and seemed to care a great deal that Harry’s parents were magical, even before he knew who he was. 

“I’ve heard of them,” Ron said again. “Seems they were one of the first families to go to the Dark Side when You-Know-Who was in power.”

“They said they were bewitched,” Revati added, crossing her arms, “But mum doesn’t believe it. She said Mr. Malfoy was a prefect when she started at Hogwarts, and he seemed to really believe in it.”

Ron nodded in agreement, then, seeming to realize just who he was talking to, shook himself out of it and fixed Revati and Hermione with a sharp look. “Can we help you?”

Taken aback at the rude tone, Revati and Hermione exchanged a surprised glance. “Erm,” Revati said, “Have you been fighting? We heard a lot of yelling down the corridor, that’s why we came in.”

“By the way, you both might want to change into your robes,” Hermione said, bouncing on the balls of her feet in anticipation. “We’re almost at Hogwarts!”

Ron scowled at them. “Scabbers has been fighting, we haven’t.” Revati supposed he meant the great big rat sleeping among the candy. “Would you two mind leaving so we can change?”

Hermione looked annoyed now at the rude boy. “We only came in because people were yelling and running about quite childishly.” She got up and began to flounce out. Revati followed her. Just as she was about to close the compartment door, Hermione called, “Oh, by the way, you’ve got some dirt on your nose!”

Revati had to hide a laugh at the look of embarrassment and annoyance that crossed Ron’s face at that.

Just ten minutes later, the train was slowing to a stop. Revati and Hermione started walking to the exit—there was no sign of Mango, but Revati wasn’t worried. Her toad was nothing if not loyal. 

Revati followed Hermione out of the train and immediately heard a loud shout.

“Firs’ years! Firs’ years, over here!”

“There!” Hermione said, grabbing Revati’s arm and pointing at a lantern bobbing over everyone’s head. 

Revati knew, as she got closer, who the man was. Her mum had been one of his favorites, after all, as she’d been one of the few that shared his passion for dangerous creatures. She’d never met him before, but she’d wager her life that this man was Rubeus Hagrid, groundskeeper at Hogwarts. He was easily the tallest person there, at least seven feet, with a bushy beard and warm, beetle black eyes. 

“Alrigh’ — that everyone? Follow me!”

As the older students got into horseless carriages, Revati, Hermione, and the other first years followed Hagrid down a long, winding path. It was so narrow that they had to squeeze in one at a time.

“Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec,” Hagrid said. Sure enough— 

“Whoa,” breathed Revati as she took in the view.

In the distance, just across a lake, stood a giant stone castle, stately and beautiful. The sky behind Hogwarts was lit up by the moon and stars, and there was barely a cloud in sight to mar the view.

“It’s beautiful,” Hermione sighed.

“No more ‘n four to a boat!” Hagrid called. Grinning at each other, Hermione and Revati hastened to the front and clambered on the first free boat they saw.

(It was just their luck that it was Harry and Ron’s).

“FORWARD!” Hagrid bellowed.

Thankfully, the two girls didn’t have to make small talk, because all four first years were equally in awe as they approached the castle by boat. They headed underneath a sort of tunnel that took them straight through the cliff onto the other side of Hogwarts. Once they’d reached, they clambered out of the boats as Hagrid checked them.

“Oi, anyone missing a couple o’ toads?” He asked.

“Trevor!” Said Neville happily, picking up his pet. Mango, who seemed to have made friends with the other toad, hopped over to Revati and jumped inside the pocket of her robes.

The first years trudged behind Hagrid as he led them up a set of stone steps and knocked on the front door.

It swung open, revealing a woman in emerald robes, a tight bun, and glasses. Her expression was kind but stern.

“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall.”

“Thank you, Hagrid.” She said. She opened the door wider, and the children followed her inside. Professor McGonagall led them all through the grand entrance hall to a small room. Across from them now was a door, behind which a low rumble of voices could be heard—the Great Hall, then. 

Professor McGonagall gave a brief statement welcoming them to Hogwarts and telling them how houses at school worked, warning them against rule breaking. Revati knew they wouldn’t have to worry about her—she’d never felt the need to cause trouble. 

With a final nod at the first years, Professor McGonagall walked out of the room, leaving the first years to talk amongst themselves.

“Oh dear,” Hermione said in a quiet voice.

“What’s wrong?” Revati asked.

“All of a sudden, I’m a bit scared,” Hermione murmured. Her brown eyes glanced towards Ron and Harry. “I think it’ll be quite difficult for me to make friends here, except for you. What if we end up in different houses?”

“We’re still going to be friends, aren’t we?” Revati pointed out. Hermione looked unconvinced. “I’m not going to just ditch you because you’re a Gryffindor and I’m a Hufflepuff or something, that’d be silly.”

“You sure?” Hermione asked.

“Positive.” Revati reached out and squeezed the other girl’s hand comfortingly. Hermione gave her a quick smile.

“Thanks, Revati.”

“Call me Reva.” Revati said. She winked. “It’s what my friends do.”

Professor McGonagall returned.

“Follow me.” She said.

The students fell into a line and marched behind Professor McGonagall as she led them into the Great Hall.

It was beautiful.

Her mum had tried to describe it to her once, but nothing could prepare Revati for the sight before her. Candles floated in midair, illuminating the four long tables. Above them, the ceiling was enchanted to look like the night sky, as Hermione was telling whoever was behind them, and stars glittered in the distance. Revati looked forward once again, towards the higher table where the Professors sat. Professor McGonagall took them all the way to the front, then turned them around so they were facing the student body. She pulled out a stool, and put an old, frayed hat on top of it.

Revati blinked as the hat opened its brim and began singing. Her mother had left that part out. A quick glance around showed that none of the first years, except Hermione who probably read about it in Hogwarts: A History, was expecting that. 

When the hat had finished its song, Professor McGonagall stood by the stool with a long roll of parchment. “When I call your name,” she said, “Please sit on the stool to be Sorted. Abbott, Hannah!”

“HUFFLEPUFF!” The hat yelled.

One by one, the first years were Sorted into their new houses. After Finnigan, Seamus became a Gryffindor, Professor McGonagall called, “Granger, Hermione!”

“Good luck,” Revati whispered as Hermione shakily made her way to the stool. The hat took its sweet time with her, deciding after four minutes— 

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Revati clapped loudly as Gryffindor cheered for a very pleased Hermione. She slipped the hat off her head and joined her new house. 

Somewhere behind her, someone groaned. Revati whipped her head back and glared furiously at Ron Weasley, who seemed put out at Hermione’s Sorting.

Pamela Hooper became a Hufflepuff, and Jeffrey Jones soon joined her. Finally,

“Kumar, Revati!” Called Professor McGonagall.

Revati sat down on the stool with a deep breath. Professor McGonagall placed the hat on top of her head.

Well, now, said a little voice, Isn’t this interesting?

What? Revati thought defensively.

Oh, nothing, the voice said. You’re a lot more like your father than I imagine anyone expected.

My… father?

Oh, yes, the hat said. Of course, that doesn’t necessarily mean you should go where he did. I wonder… what would you do with the opportunities he had?

The Sorting Hat went silent for a few seconds before declaring, “GRYFFINDOR!”

As if in a dream, Revati took off the hat and handed it to McGonagall, before walking to the Gryffindor table and sliding in next to Hermione. 

“Well done, Reva!” Hermione squeaked, looking pleased. “We’re here together!”

Revati smiled warmly at her friend, but her mind was on something else.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked in a quiet voice. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Revati said. Her brows furrowed together. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just that the Sorting Hat said something about my dad. It said I was a lot like him.”

“Oh, Reva,” Hermione said, concern in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, really,” Revati reassured her. “I just wish I knew what it meant by that, that’s all.”

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but whatever it was, she didn’t get a chance to say it, because that was when McGonagall called, “Potter, Harry!”

Harry Potter walked forward, anxiety written across his face, and the Hat slipped over his eyes. Around Revati, everyone was whispering and talking amongst themselves, shocked that Harry Potter was a student now. Revati felt a pang of sympathy for the boy—it must have been difficult for him, being famous for something he couldn’t remember, something that got his parents killed. She wouldn’t wish that on her worst enemy, not that she had one necessarily.

“GRYFFINDOR!” The Hat yelled, and Gryffindor House went absolutely mad with excitement. A giant roar started down the end of the table and was picked up by all the students, who welcomed Harry Potter with the biggest cheer of the night.

He sat down a few places away from her and Hermione, looking very relieved all of a sudden. Revati caught his eye and gave him a quick smile. He grinned back, happier now than she’d seen him all day.

The Sorting was drawing to a close. There were only a few students left—Dean Thomas joined them at Gryffindor, Lisa Turpin went to Ravenclaw… and then Ron Weasley was put into Gryffindor within a second of the Hat falling on his head.

The Sorting ended when Blaise Zabini was put into Slytherin, and almost immediately, Dumbledore had them sing this ridiculous song about Hogwarts that Revati decided she loved. He gave them a few quick warnings about the Forbidden Forest and the third floor corridor, for some reason—but Revati didn’t think too deeply on it. She was really hungry and distracted, and she figured she could always ask Hermione for a rundown later.

Finally, finally, they were allowed to eat.

Revati had never seen so much food in her life. Oh, her mother tried, but she wasn’t exactly the best cook, and the two of them ordered takeout from the Muggle Chinese place down the road at least once a week.

But this—this was absolutely heavenly.

Revati had eaten so much that she didn’t possibly think she had room for any more. That all ended when the plates cleared and she saw the dessert pop up. Upon seeing her wide eyes, two identical redheads—Ron’s older brothers, if she remembered correctly—laughed heartily.

“I think the feast broke the ickle firstie, Fred,” said one.

“Too bad for her,” said the other, apparently Fred. “Just means more dessert for us!” He reached out with his fork for the slice of chocolate cake she’d just loaded on her plate. Reacting just in time, Revati grabbed her own fork and fended him off.

“Get your own, you cake thief!” She cried. Next to her, Hermione was deep in conversation with yet another ginger (how many were there?), who Revati soon learned was Percy, a fifth year. The two of them were talking about classes, and though Revati wanted to do well in school, she really wasn’t so invested yet that she’d interrupt the feast for it.

(She supposed it was different for Hermione, though. Reva had grown up around magic—for Hermione, it was a whole new realm. Revati supposed that if she was Muggleborn, she’d be doing the same as her new friend). 

At long last, the feast ended and the students all headed to bed. As they followed Percy Weasley to the Gryffindor common room, Revati did a quick head count. There were nine new Gryffindors, four girls and five boys.

The Gryffindor common room seemed warm and inviting, but all of a sudden the exhaustion hit and Revati headed to her dorm, Hermione at her side and Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil right behind. There were exactly four beds in the room, one for each of them, and their things, which had evidently been sent up, were lying neatly by their beds.

Reva turned to Hermione, beaming. “First night here.” She let Mango out of her pocket and onto her bedside table, before rummaging in her suitcase for pajamas. 

“First night—and we have seven years of this,” Hermione replied in a voice full of awe. “Reva, can you imagine?”

“We’re lucky, Hermione,” Revati grinned, pulling on an old t-shirt of her mum’s. “We don’t have to.”

Hermione gave her a huge, beaming smile and the two girls got ready for bed. After brushing her teeth and clambering under her warm blankets, Revati blinked sleepily, reflecting on the nights events and the nine new Gryffindors.

Lavender and Parvati already seemed to be close, which was okay with Reva because at least she had Hermione and Neville Longbottom to count as friends. Ron and Harry were close, of course, and Dean Thomas was sitting next to Seamus Finnigan. All in all, Revati was hopeful that they’d all become friends in time—yes, even Ron Weasley and Harry Potter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoy! stay safe <3 keeping all of you and your loved ones in my thoughts, and i hope our global community can come together and help each other out.


	3. Chapter 3

It didn’t take Reva long to figure out that Hermione Granger was a genius.

The girl was absolutely barking mad! She excelled in every course, from Herbology to Transfiguration to even dull, awful History of Magic. She got excited over homework, for Merlin’s sake! Revati had never been so impressed, or intimidated, by someone’s intellect in her whole life.

For her part, Reva did well in classes (at least, so far as the first week showed). Though Hermione had consistently been the first to perform any piece of magic in all their classes, Reva normally managed to get the hang of it towards the end of the period. She was on time with her homework and did the readings she was supposed to, though she was immensely grateful for Hermione’s tendency to discuss it afterwards because she didn’t quite understand what was happening.

The rest of the first years seemed to leave the two of them alone, which was disheartening. She didn’t know what either of them had done to Lavender or Parvati, but neither of their dorm mates reached out, though they were perfectly civil and kind when addressed. Dean and Seamus were always talking about one sport or another, and never tried to include the girls in conversation. Harry and Ron, of course, didn’t like them and so didn’t make any effort with them.

In fact, the only friend in their house and year the two girls could count was Neville Longbottom, who, despite his clumsiness and bad luck, was universally liked by the Gryffindors for his kindness and good nature.

Reva and Hermione had gone to the Owlery during lunch on their first day of classes to borrow a pair of school owls and send their letters home. Hermione said her parents had left a window open in their bedroom so the owl could come in and out; Reva found that very sweet, and thought to herself that Mr. and Mrs. Granger would get on well with her mum.

On Wednesday morning, Reva caught sight of her mum’s (very) old owl. It circled overhead before dropping a letter and a package on Reva’s lap, preening as she ran her fingers gently over the bird’s feathers.

“I didn’t know you had an owl!” Hermione said.

“Elvie’s my mum’s,” Reva said easily. “We can’t really afford another one, so my mum said I should use the school owls and she’d send Elvie if she could.”

She opened the letter and read quickly to herself.

_Dear Revati,_

_I’m so glad you’re already having a wonderful time at school! I was sure you’d be in Ravenclaw, but it looks like you have some of that old lion pride in you still—I couldn’t be happier for you. Work is going on the same as usual. I am still looking for another job, and it would seem that there’s a farm looking for a dragonologist to advise them over in Sorcerer’s Circle._

_I’m so pleased you’ve made such a good friend already! Hermione, from your letter, seems like a lovely girl. Please tell her that she’s welcome to visit our home over any break she likes, and if she or her parents ever need anything from the wizarding world, they can always write to me._

_I can’t wait to hear about your favorite classes and things to do at school!_

_I am so proud of you, always._

_-Mum_

_P.S.: I baked you and your friends some Cauldron Cakes, and your uncle insisted on sending you chocolates when he came over on Sunday. Enjoy them!_

With a grin, Reva stuffed the small package into her bag and winked at Hermione as she looked over questioningly. “My mum sent sweets,” she said in explanation. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Neville and Dean trying to mask longing looks as they not-so-subtly listened in on the girls’ conversation. With a tiny smile, she pretended she hadn’t noticed and instead said to Hermione, “I’m under instructions to share, so I suppose us Gryffindor first years will be splitting some lovely homemade Cauldron Cakes.”

Hermione’s eyes brightened with curiosity and delight. “Ooh, that sounds lovely!” She said. “Cauldron Cakes come from Pakistan, don’t they?”

“Yeah, that’s where they’re produced, I think,” Reva said, frowning in thought. “Although I imagine before partition they were made all across British India by the Wizarding Raj, not just in the area that’s now Pakistan. This one’s an old family recipe, Mum’s grandfather used to make them.” She shook her head. “Either way, I’m glad Pakistani wizards are finally getting paid a fair rate for them. It used to be that the British owned every company, and a great big British corporation in Pakistan was hardly likely to care about their workers.”

“But that’s awful!” Hermione cried.

“Yeah, well. Colonization wasn’t just a Muggle thing,” Revati said darkly. “And neither is inequality.” Her eyes brightened. “Good news is that now, Qizilbash is the world’s biggest producer of Cauldron Cakes, and they’re entirely Pakistani owned.”

That night, Revati sat around with the other first years in front of the fire, and they passed around the box of homemade Cauldron Cakes.

“These are the best Cauldron Cakes I’ve had,” said Seamus, biting in.

“Thank you,” smiled Reva.

Lavender and Parvati struck up a conversation with Dean, Neville, and Seamus, and the other four Gryffindors were left to make conversation.

Reva met Harry’s eyes, and she saw her own uncertainty reflected there. The two of them had barely talked, but they’d somehow reached an understanding that while they had no problem with each other, their respective best friends couldn’t see eye to eye on anything; and so, out of loyalty, Harry and Reva weren’t to speak, either.

Ron, for all his rudeness to Hermione, didn’t seem to have a huge problem with Reva (except that she was best friends with the other girl). Reva didn’t like him very much because she didn’t like anyone who was mean to her friends, but she was polite, if cold, to him whenever he spoke to her. That in itself was a rare occurrence, because Ron seemed so wary of Hermione’s tendency to butt into conversations that he was loath to interact with her best friend if she was around.

It seemed, however, that Ron’s passion for good food outweighed his apparent trepidation, because with his mouth full of cake, he said, “‘Ese are so goofh,” blinking appreciatively at Reva.

Revati started to say thanks, but she was beaten to the punch by Hermione, who, for all of her lovable qualities, did not know when to keep her mouth shut.

“Honestly, Ron, it’s basic manners to close your mouth when you chew,” she said in disgust. “Nobody wants to see your half-eaten cake.”

Ron burned a bright red, and swallowed his food roughly before saying, “It’s manners to mind your own business, too!”

As the two bickered, Reva caught Harry’s eye and gave him a quick smile with the roll of her eyes. Time to step in.

“Er, Hermione, it’s a bit late and I still need to finish the Charms homework,” Revati cut in. “I was wondering if you could help me talk through the wand motion…”

“Oh,” said Hermione, interest immediately piqued at the thought of homework. “Yes, of course!” She chattered on about the wand patterns for various basic Charms, and though Revati nodded and ‘ah'd at the right places, she glanced over at Ron sharply as he and Harry got up to leave. He, at least, had the decency to look a bit sheepish, and gave her a quick nod as they left the common room.

* * *

Friday of the first week was the Gryffindor first years’ first lesson in Potions, and they had a double period to share with the Slytherins. Hermione and Revati made it down to the Great Hall, only getting lost twice, and ate a quick breakfast before they followed their classmates to the dungeons.

Professor Snape was a tall, unpleasant looking man with sallow skin and greasy black hair. He had a demeanor that demanded attention and a voice that suggested danger. He began the class by calling roll. He stopped briefly before Reva’s name, but she’d expected that. All of her teachers so far had struggled with the Indian name, a look of quick confusion falling over their faces. The ones who’d had her mum knew how to say her last name, but Professor Snape didn’t look old enough to have taught Anjali Kumar.

“Kumar, Revati,” he said finally.

“Present,” said Revati. “But, er, it’s pronounced ‘Ray-va-thee.’”

Professor Snape ignored her, but if the snarl curling his lip was any indication, he didn’t appreciate her interjection. That was too bad, Revati thought to herself. She wasn’t going to let anyone mispronounce her name.

It seemed to be smooth sailing from there, even with Parvati Patil’s name. Professor Snape didn’t mess her name up, probably because the last part of her name was the same as Reva’s, and he’d already received a lesson in how to pronounce brown names of that sort.

But Reva had no sooner thought that, when Professor Snape reached the next name.

“Ah, yes,” he said. “Harry Potter. Our new… celebrity.”

Revati exchanged a perplexed look with Hermione at the obvious disdain in the man’s voice.

“Thomas, Dean.” He moved on.

“Present.”

“Weasley, Ronald.”

“Present.”

“Zabini, Blaise.”

“Present.”

With roll call officially over, Professor Snape launched into an utterly riveting, phenomenally descriptive, and absolutely terrifying monologue on the art of potion’s making.

“Bit dramatic, isn’t he?” Whispered Reva to Hermione. The other girl just hushed her, paying rapt attention to the scowling Professor in his billowing black robes.

“Potter!” The Potion’s master snapped, making them all jump. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Reva’s eyes widened. Was this some sort of test? Would they all have to answer such questions? Next to her, Hermione’s hand shot up in the air. Of course she knew the answer.

“I don’t know, sir.” Said Harry, sounding taken aback.

Professor Snape made a tutting noise, clicking his tongue. “Clearly fame isn’t everything.”

What? Anger began simmering in the pit of Reva’s stomach. Didn’t he know what Harry was famous for? As if he needed another reminder of his parents’ death.

“Let’s try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find a bezoar?”

Again, Hermione’s hand was in the air, but it was clear that Harry had no clue.

“I don’t know, sir.”

“Thought you wouldn’t open a book before coming to school, eh, Potter?”

Reva clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms. This was incredibly unprofessional, not to mention pointed and targeted at a specific first year who’d done nothing wrong except be well-known.

“What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

Next to her, Hermione stood up, and admittedly, even Reva knew the answer to this one. She was too furious, however, to make any indication that she had, and so sat quietly at her seat, biting her tongue.

“I don’t know.” Harry said, and then— “I think Hermione does, though, why don’t you try her?”

Reva laughed at that, and she wasn’t the only one. She turned her head and gave Harry a quick grin, which he noticed.

Snape, of course, didn’t like that. “Sit down!” He snarled at Hermione. The girl, who’d likely never been yelled at by a teacher in her life, obeyed immediately, looking horrified to have gotten on a professor’s bad side.

Professor Snape answered his own questions, speaking in a way clearly designed to make Harry feel stupid. What a terrible excuse for an educator. Reva felt her jaw clench as insult was added to injury— “And a point from Gryffindor for your cheek, Potter.”

As the Potions lesson continued, it became increasingly clear that Professor Snape hated the Gryffindors, especially Harry. Hermione was clearly the best in the class, with a near perfect Cure for Boils Revati had helped with, but Professor Snape ignored it (and them) completely, moving towards Malfoy and remarking on his instead. Even from across the classroom, Reva could tell the Slytherin boy’s was too watery to be effective.

It all came to a head, however, when poor Neville Longbottom cried out. Revati turned back to see with horror that he’d not only messed up the potion, but had spilled it all over himself. To make matters worse, he’d accidentally melted Seamus Finnegan’s cauldron and the badly made potion was spreading across the floor.

It wasn’t as if Revati had expected Professor Snape to become nurturing and kind, all of a sudden, but certainly even he could have been nicer than to bark, “Idiot boy!” as he easily Vanished the spilled potion. That, Reva thought with a new burst of anger, was a cruel thing to say to a boy in pain from a potions accident his very first class. She was so enraged that she missed Snape snarling for Seamus to take Neville to the Hospital Wing (which she later thought he should have done himself, given that Seamus was still in his first week of classes and didn’t know where the Hospital Wing was). She did, however, overhear Snape blaming Harry for the entire thing, insinuating that the boy had purposefully watched and let Neville ruin his and Seamus’ potion in order to make himself look better.

Oh, she hated this man.

Did he treat all the students like this? How many children were subject to his constant ridicule and abuse? How had nobody done anything about it? Why hadn’t anyone else on the staff, like McGonagall or Dumbledore, had a word with him about his behavior?

When class ended just under an hour later, Revati was still seething.

“I mean, the nerve of him, to scream at Neville like that when he’d just gotten hurt!” She ranted to Hermione as the two of them walked to the Great Hall. “And did you see the way he treated Harry? As if he’d asked to be famous. That wasn’t just disrespectful to Harry, but to his whole family who died for him, and to everyone who’d suffered because of You-Know-Who who were saved by him! And the way he yelled at you, for knowing the answers to his questions, that was absolutely horrendous!”

Hermione had also found it all unfair, but she didn’t think it was as dire as Revati felt.

“He is a Professor, though,” Hermione offered hesitantly as they took another staircase up. “He was a little… short-tempered, but he can’t be a bad person, can he? Or else he would have been fired.”

(This was the thing Revati Kumar would soon come to realize about Hermione Granger: she respected and trusted authority implicitly. And this was the thing that set Revati Kumar fundamentally apart from her best friend: she did not).

Professor Snape very clearly did not care about his students. He certainly did not treat them as if they were worthy of basic dignity and respect. Someone needed to teach him a lesson, to show him that he couldn’t continue to treat his students as though they were scum at the bottom of his cauldron. Someone needed to do something about his despicable, abusive behavior.

And that was when Revati stopped in her tracks, heart beating fast with anticipation. “Hermione,” she breathed, “I’ve just had the most wonderful idea.”

“What is it?” Her friend asked.

Revati set her jaw and lifted her chin up defiantly. “Let’s start a rebellion.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed! hope you're staying safe!
> 
> as always, a huge, huge thank you to everyone continuing to work in essential fields.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione didn’t seem to care for Reva’s idea in the slightest.

“Absolutely not!” She sounded scandalized every time Revati brought it up. “I’m not skipping class, Reva!”

“But he’s _ghastly!”_ Reva always protested.

Though she’d tried for three days, Hermione was firmly against it. It was Sunday now, and their next class was on Tuesday. Reva really wanted her friend to be with her on this—Snape couldn’t go around treating his students like they were trash!

“What if I got everyone to do it?” Reva begged as the two walked back up from the Great Hall after breakfast.

Hermione looked unconvinced.

“Come on,” Reva wheedled. “You don’t want to be the only Gryffindor _not_ skipping, do you? In a classroom with Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson?”

“If you get the rest of the Gryffindors to do it, I’ll do it too.” She said finally. 

Reva beamed. Getting the other Gryffindors to skip potions shouldn’t be too hard, she thought. Everyone hated the class to begin with.

But when they returned to the Common Room, the other Gryffindors were crowded around the notice board, grumbling about flying lessons, which were supposed to start on Thursday with the Slytherins. 

“Just what I wanted,” Harry was saying gloomily, “To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy.”

“Oh, come on, you won’t be that bad,” Seamus Finnegan replied bracingly. “Flying’s the best!”

“Not even Draco Malfoy can ruin that,” Reva added as she and Hermione approached, making the others jump.

“Do you fly, then?” Ron asked, his eyebrows shooting up. “Didn’t take you for the Quidditch type.”

“Oh, I’m rubbish at Quidditch,” Reva replied with a wry smile. “I always get too distracted to ever play properly. But I love flying!”

It was true, and Reva was actually an excellent flier. She’d always thought it odd that you weren’t considered any good if you weren’t great at Quidditch, because she loved to race and do loops and twirls and dives from high in the air. She wasn’t much of an athlete, and she could never focus well enough to play any position, but that suited her just fine. The best part about flying, after all, was taking in the glorious sights from up above, seeing the world shrink as the wind raced by her, the air cold and fresh and energizing.

Course, her broomstick was a Comet 220, which had been an excellent model when her mum was playing Keeper for Ravenclaw in the seventies, but which had since become old and finicky. They couldn’t afford a new broom, though, and Reva didn’t really see the point in asking for one anyway, as it wasn’t as though she needed a racing broom.

“I suppose I’ll be far behind everyone else,” Harry murmured, a little sadly. “Sounds like nearly everyone already knows how to fly.”

“Nonsense,” called Parvati Patil from where she was sitting with Lavender. “Loads of people come to school without knowing how to fly. I don’t much care for it myself.”

“Besides, can’t be worse than potions, right?” Dean Thomas, who was Muggleborn, added.

“Oh!” Reva said, remembering. “Speaking of, I had an idea earlier.” She plopped herself on the floor in front of the other first years, who had moved to the corner of the common room.

“About potions?” Lavender asked dubiously.

“Yes.” Reva nodded fiercely. “Well, we all saw last week just how horrid Snape was, especially to Neville and Harry.” Both boys flushed a dull red, but Reva continued on, ignoring their obvious embarrassment. “And none of us can deny that he’s really an awful bully.”

“Hear, hear,” muttered Seamus, scowling.

“So I was thinking we stage a walkout,” Reva said, growing more animated by the second. “We all come to class, and the moment he’s done taking roll, we pack up and leave. Then, when McGonagall comes to talk to us about our behavior, we tell her exactly why we left class. If we continue to put pressure on Snape to change the way he treats us, he’ll have to, in order to avoid having the whole school talk about him.” She finished triumphantly, sure that her peers would agree.

The other first years looked at each other, and Reva could tell a dozen silent conversations were taking place. She shifted, a little uneasy. Surely the others saw the logic to what she was saying? Surely they wanted things to change as much as she did?

The first person to speak was Ron.

“No,” he said, rather bluntly.

“You’re not serious?” Dean asked incredulously. “You do know Snape’ll dock about fifty points from each of us?”

“It’s only September,” Reva pointed out with a roll of her eyes. “Gryffindor only has about sixty points, anyway, and it’s so early in the year that we can easily make that up. Besides, this is bigger than the House Cup!”

“Sorry, Revati, but I’m not doing it,” Parvati said, not unkindly. “I don’t want to get in trouble my second week here.”

“Th-thanks, Reva, it means a lot,” Neville muttered, “But I don’t want to make Professor Snape even angrier.”

One by one, the other Gryffindors shook their heads no, telling Reva in no uncertain terms that they didn’t want to be a part of her protest. She felt her heart sink as most of them left, gone off to do homework or play a game of Exploding Snap. Even Hermione got up, saying she was headed to the library to pick up extra reading for Transfiguration. After a kind squeeze to Reva’s shoulder, she made her way out of the portrait hole with a swish of her school robes and bushy dark hair. 

“Are you really doing this because Snape was picking on me?” Came a quiet voice. Reva looked up in surprise to see Harry Potter still there, staring at her in astonishment.

“Well, not just you,” Reva hedged, “But largely, yeah.” She shook her head. “He kept acting like… like you asked for the fame, and like you’d gotten a really big head from it. I thought that was especially cruel.”

“I don’t know why he hates me,” Harry said. “I asked Hagrid and he definitely knows something about it, but… there’s a reason.”

Revati wasn’t surprised to hear it. The way Snape had treated Harry seemed vindictive and personal.

“I’m still going to be protesting,” she confessed to him. “Even if nobody else does. I can’t just sit there and let him bully a bunch of first years. Honestly, it’s like he doesn’t realize it’s pathetic for a grown man to pick on eleven year olds.”

Something shined in Harry Potter’s eyes then, a sort of grateful surprise and appreciation. “Er, thanks,” he murmured, and though he seemed awkward and bashful Reva could tell he meant it. “It really does mean a lot.” Then his expression turned sheepish. “I don’t think I’ll join you, though. I might’ve if everyone else did, but… if it’s just you and me, I don’t want Snape to redirect his attention on me. I’m sorry.”

Reva had guessed as much.

“It’s okay,” she sighed. “I get it.”

She’d just have to do it alone.

* * *

When Tuesday’s class rolled around, Reva walked in with everyone else and sat down next to Hermione. She left her bag next to her chair, but did not bother getting out parchment and a quill for notes. Instead, she stared straight ahead, her hands clasped together as they rested on the table in front of her.

Professor Snape went through roll quickly, and though he sneered at Harry’s name, he didn’t pause like he had before. He launched immediately into an explanation of how to make a Herbicide Potion, and for every question he asked, he ignored Hermione’s hand in the air and berated the Gryffindors for not doing their readings (which they had).

Snape seemed to realize almost immediately after finishing his monologue and instructing the first years to begin that Reva was just sitting there, staring straight ahead, refusing to follow any of his directions.

He swooped over towards her, his voice dangerous. “Is there a problem, Miss Kumar?”

“Yes, sir.” Said Reva coolly. Next to her, Hermione let out a tiny groan.

Professor Snape’s eyes narrowed, a very cold anger settling in the dark black hues. “Would you care to explain to me and the class what exactly the problem is, so we can all stop wasting our time?”

“The problem, _sir,_ is your treatment of the Gryffindors in this class.” Reva said. She was beginning to feel a little scared now, seeing the look of absolute rage that crossed Snape’s face at that, but she pushed on. “Not only do you show favoritism to your house, you have also displayed a worrying lack of care for the safety of other students, as evidenced by your reaction to Neville Longbottom spilling his potion over himself last week—”

“Silence!” Snape hissed. Reva obliged. The Potions master’s expression twisted with anger, and Reva was definitely feeling scared now. Surely he wouldn’t hex her in class? Surely that was frowned down upon? “That’s fifty points you just lost from Gryffindor, Kumar.”

Reva clenched her jaw. “And that’s seven years of respect you just lost from me, Professor Snape,” she said before she could stop herself. 

Next to her, Hermione gasped, and she heard Ron whisper “Bloody hell,” in the row behind them.

Snape looked down at her with furious, narrowed eyes. He appeared to search her face, and something in him seemed to click, because all of a sudden he fixed her with a look of hatred that had so far been reserved solely for Harry.

“Detention, Kumar.” Snape said, black eyes glittering with fury. “Every evening for the next two weeks.” He’d whispered it, but the whole class had gone absolutely silent as Reva spoke, as if holding their breath as one, so the words lingered in the air.

_Detention._

Revati hadn’t intended to get detention, but she wasn’t about to stand down. The way Snape was treating her class was cruel and unfair, and she was going to make sure he knew they weren’t okay with it. But Professor Snape wasn’t done yet.

“Get out of my classroom,” he hissed. “Your head of house will be informed of your behavior in class today, and I will be sending a letter home to your parents.”

Reva knew she’d been dismissed, and so she got up and grabbed her schoolbag, hoping desperately that her robes hid her shaking knees and trying to school her terrified expression into a more blank one. She stalked out of the dungeons, refusing to look anyone in her class in the eyes, though she was quite aware of the wide-eyed stares fixed on her.

She’d barely made her way to the first floor corridor when she heard her name being called.

“Miss Kumar?”

Revati looked around to see Professor Flitwick making his way out of the Great Hall.

“Yes, Professor?” She asked, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.

Professor Flitwick just raised his eyebrows. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

Revati couldn’t quite hide the guilty look in her eyes as she said, “I was told to leave the class, sir.”

“I see.” Professor Flitwick said in his squeaky voice. He regarded her for a minute. “I have a free period now. Why don’t you come into my classroom?”

Seeing no way to refuse, Reva did as she was told, following the short Charms professor all the way to his classroom. The two of them walked in, and, feeling a little silly, Revati took a seat at one of the desks.

“Your mother was one of my best students, you know,” he said, smiling at her, and Reva remembered that Professor Flitwick was head of Ravenclaw House. “I recommended her as a prefect her fifth year, and I submitted her name in consideration for Head Girl.”

“I didn’t know that,” Revati said.

“Ah,” Professor Flitwick waved his hands, as if blowing off the matter. “She didn’t know. All the house heads submit a candidate for Head Boy and Head Girl, and the Headmaster picks between them. Your mother wasn’t chosen.”

“Oh.” Then, unable to hold her tongue, Reva said, “Sorry, Professor, but why am I here?”

Professor Flitwick’s smile faded the littlest bit. “Your mother… fell in with some of the wrong crowd,” he said. “We’d heard that she was… struggling, so to speak, but none of us have heard from her in about a decade.” 

“By the wrong crowd,” Revati said, gears turning in her mind, “You mean my father.”

Alarm flared in Professor Flitwick’s eyes. “I don’t mean to insinuate that there’s anything wrong with you, Miss Kumar. I just wished to check up on an old student with a lot of potential.” He squeaked.

“No, it’s alright, my mum’s told me about him,” Revati said, her face hardening. “And I agree. My father ran off and left her when she became pregnant with me. He ruined her life.”

For a moment, Professor Flitwick stared at her with utter confusion. Revati was quite used to that—most adults thought she wouldn’t know what happened to her mother. But Anjali Kumar had never refused to answer a question Revati had asked, and when a five year old Reva had asked about her dad, Anjali had told her the truth. Slowly, understanding dawned on Professor Flitwick’s face, and he nodded grimly.

“Yes,” he squeaked, “Well. Do let her know she can always write, as the staff at Hogwarts is always happy to help. Those of us who knew her as a student… we care about her.”

A sudden warmth filled Reva’s chest as she regarded this old wizard. This was the way a Professor should be, she rather thought—kind and caring and genuine. Professor Flitwick was checking in with the daughter of a former student because he was concerned. She beamed at him, in good spirits as she said, “Of course, Professor.”

Professor Flitwick gave her a quick reminder about the essay due to him at the end of the week, and sent her on her way. Reva checked the time, and, realizing class would have gotten out by now, went down to the Great Hall to grab some lunch.

When she arrived, she saw a number of students looking at her curiously. Those from the other houses seemed mostly amused, if mildly disapproving, while Gryffindors seemed torn between exasperation and grudging respect.

“You just lost all our points from the beginning of term!” Complained a second year, Cormac McLaggen. 

“Good thing it’s barely been a week then, hm?” Reva replied as she sat down next to Hermione, who frowned at her.

“Honestly Reva, you might have been more tactful in addressing your complaints,” her friend said reproachfully. “You’ve got two weeks worth of detention! What will your mother say?”

“I expect she’ll just have to make peace with it,” Reva replied, though her heart sank. She’d never caused any sort of mischief at home, and she knew the last thing her mother expected from her was trouble. Anjali was going to be so disappointed.

“Well, I thought it was bloody awesome!” Said Ron Weasley, apparently willing to talk to Reva despite her current proximity to Hermione. “Absolutely barmy, mind you, you’re completely mad, but the look on Snape’s face!” He shook his head, grinning. “You should have seen him the rest of class, he looked as if he’d been forced to eat bat droppings!”

Reva gave him a quick grin, but it soon faded when Hermione nudged her. “Er, thanks, Ron,” she said hurriedly before turning back to lunch.

In some ways, Hermione and Ron represented the two sides of Revati fighting for control right now. The last thing Reva wanted to do was develop a reputation as a troublemaker—in fact, she wanted to be the best student she could possibly be, which meant studying often and doing her very best in class.

On the other hand, there was nothing that really compared to the satisfaction she felt in calling Snape out on his bad behavior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you all enjoy!
> 
> reva takes herself very seriously in this, and it's meant to be every bit as presumptuous and arrogant as it seems (just as it is also, hopefully, a pretty funny concept). she hates the idea of causing trouble and just wants to do well in school, but she also fancies herself a fair and just person, and so takes it upon herself to lecture others for not doing as she would advise.


	5. Chapter 5

Reva’s punishment from Professor McGonagall had been a bit of a harsh blow, she thought. While the other first year Gryffindors and Slytherins were taking flying lessons, Reva had to scrub dirty cauldrons clean, Muggle style. That was on top of the detentions she had to complete for Professor Snape, which were nothing short of horrific. He had her doing everything, from sorting frog eyes and placing them in preservative liquid with her bare hands, to cleaning the bedpans in the Hospital Wing. He had apparently suggested suspension, but McGonagall put a quick stop to that. Reva couldn’t imagine getting suspended a week into school—that would certainly be the most humiliating thing that had ever happened to her.

But nothing hurt more than the absolute disappointment apparent in every line of the letter her mum sent by the next morning.

_Revati,_

_I can’t believe you got detention during your second week of school. Professor Snape said that you’d been quite rude to him, even going so far as questioning the safety of students in his care. Is everything okay? What is going on? You’ve always been such an obedient, mature girl that I’ve never had to worry about something like this. And I am worried, sweetheart. This isn’t like you._

_Reva, if there isn’t a good reason for this, I will be quite upset with you. It’s one thing to goof off and occasionally misbehave in class, but accusing your professor of intentionally endangering his students is a very serious thing._

The next two lines had been scribbled out, as evidently Anjali had decided against saying whatever it was she had originally intended.

_I hope you will learn from the consequences of your actions. Again, Reva, I’m worried about you—this isn’t at all like you. Please remember to respect your Professors, as they are there to advise and instruct you throughout your years in school._

_Love,_

_-Mum_

Reva had heard, of course, about Draco Malfoy’s showdown with Harry Potter during their first flying lesson. She’d learned that Harry was apparently quite good at flying. And despite Quidditch Captain Oliver Wood’s best attempts, all of Gryffindor House—and perhaps the whole school—knew that Harry Potter was the new Seeker for the house team. 

The day it had happened, Reva was stuck cleaning cauldrons during their flying period (of course). But she’d caught up with Hermione during lunch, and her friend told her the whole story, not without a good dose of disapproval for Harry’s actions. But just as Hermione finished, Draco Malfoy and his two friends came up to the Gryffindor table and started speaking with Ron and Harry. The conversation seemed quite unpleasant, but Reva knew the boys couldn’t do anything with the teachers watching. Reva turned back to her food, deciding whatever rulebreaking the two of them were involved in, she’d better keep her nose clean—but Hermione, who’d apparently been eavesdropping, had different ideas.

“Excuse me,” she said. “I couldn’t help overhearing—”

“Bet you could,” Ron mumbled, and much as Reva didn’t like the way he was treating her friend, she had to admit he had a point there.

“You really mustn’t go outside the common room after dark, you’ll lose points for Gryffindor and honestly it would be quite selfish of you—”

“Well did you tell Revati that when she lost all of Gryffindor’s points in one go?” Ron grumbled, and Reva felt herself flush with embarrassment. She opened one of her schoolbooks and pretended to read it.

“That was different, it was awfully noble of her to stick up for you and Neville, it wasn’t selfish at all—”

“Well, either way, it’s really not your business,” Harry snapped, and he and Ron quickly finished eating and left.

Hermione returned to Reva, defeated and clearly a little hurt.

“Honestly, how could they be so stupid! I’m just trying to help them, and they’re acting like I’m just this big nuisance they’re stuck with! All I’m trying to say is that Draco Malfoy isn’t worth losing house points for.”

“Well—” Reva knew better than to point out that what Hermione had done had been rather nosy, so she switched gears. “If they’re going to sneak out of the tower at night, and if they’re going to be foolish enough to get caught, hopefully they’ll learn their lesson without you having to teach it to them.”

Hermione nodded, but she didn’t seem convinced.

That night, Reva stuck around in the common room to give her friend some company. Hermione said she needed to finish the History of Magic essay due Monday, but she’d never spent so much time on one before. Still, Reva didn’t question her friend’s academic process and so stuck around in the common room with her, practicing the charm to change ink into different colors. 

But at half-past eleven, she learned the real reason why Hermione insisted they stay up so late.

Harry and Ron, half dressed with their bathrobes pulled over their pajamas, crept down the staircase from the boys dorms. They hadn’t noticed Reva or Hermione yet, and were nearly out of the portrait hole when Hermione said, “I can’t believe you two are going to do this.”

Harry and Ron jumped and whirled to face them. Anger crept across both their faces as Hermione continued. “I almost told your brother Percy about this—he’d have put an end to it.”

“Go to bed!” Ron snapped, then whirled on Reva. “I can’t believe you’re in on this!” He said furiously. “Bit hypocritical for you to worry about me and Harry losing points, isn’t it?”

“Leave it, Ron,” Harry said, rolling his eyes angrily at the two girls. “Come on.”

The two of them disappeared behind the portrait hole.

Hermione let out a groan, then grabbed Reva’s arm and pulled her out of the Gryffindor common room with her. Harry and Ron looked even more irritated, but Hermione didn’t let up. “Don’t you care about the house cup? I don’t want Slytherin to win, and you’ll lose the points I got from McGonagall today!”

“Go away.” Harry whispered, annoyed.

“Seriously, how can you get mad at us when your best friend is the one who lost us all our points!” Ron added.

“Hey,” Reva muttered, affronted, “Leave me out of this!”

“That was different!” Hermione whispered. “Even if it was inadvisable,” she turned an apologetic but stern look on Revati, the nonverbal equivalent of ‘I told you so.’

“Just go back to the tower!” Harry whisper shouted at them.

“Fine, but don’t expect any sympathy when—” Hermione trailed off as she and Reva took in the sight before them. The Fat Lady was gone, presumably to go chat with some other portraits or visit other parts of the castle. 

“Now what are we going to do?” Hermione hissed.

“That’s your problem,” Ron said, and the two boys walked off.

Reva turned to Hermione, mouth open in shock. “You didn’t have to finish your History of Magic essay, you just wanted to catch Harry and Ron!” she accused, a little upset. “You could have told me that’s why we stayed up! You didn’t have to lie about it!”

Regret flashed over Hermione’s expression, before a more obstinate look took its place. “I’m sorry, Reva, but you would have told me to let it go!”

“Yeah, of course I would have!” Reva snapped. Then she sighed. “No point getting upset now,” she murmured to herself. “I suppose we’ll just have to stick with the boys.”

They jogged up to Harry and Ron, who’d just reached the end of the corridor. 

“We’re coming with,” Reva said.

“You are not!” Ron protested hotly.

“Look, if we get caught by Filch we can just tell him I had a nightmare and you lot are taking me to the Hospital Wing to get a Dreamless Sleep potion,” Reva said, thinking quickly. “But if he finds both pairs of us on our own, he won’t believe it.”

“Or we could just tell him the truth,” Hermione muttered, “That you two were sneaking off and Reva and I were trying to stop you!”

Reva fixed her friend with a stern look. “Oh, is that the truth?”

Hermione suddenly looked sheepish and looked to the ground. She opened her mouth to reply, but she never got the chance.

“Shh, all of you!” Harry hushed them. “I hear something.”

Sure enough, a sort of scuffling noise was coming from in front of them.

“Mrs. Norris?” Asked Ron.

“No…” Reva frowned, squinting in the darkness. “It’s—it’s a person!”

At her surprised cry, the person, who’d been sleeping on the floor, all curled up and uncomfortable, woke with a start.

“Neville?” Reva said, baffled.

“Reva!” Neville whispered. He took in the other shocked faces. “Harry, Hermione, Ron! Thank goodness you found me!”

“What are you doing out here?” Asked Ron blankly.

“I—I forgot the password,” Neville admitted sheepishly. Then he brightened. “But you could help me get in!”

“It’s no use, Neville, the Fat Lady’s gone,” Reva said.

“We’ll, er, see you later,” Harry said. But before the four of them could move past their classmate, he got to his feet in a hurry.

“No, wait! Please let me come with you, I don’t like being out here alone—”

Ron and Harry exchanged an exasperated look, then fixed Reva, Hermione, and Neville with an angry glance.

“If we get caught because of any one of you, I swear I won’t rest until I learn that Bogies Curse Quirrel mentioned!” Ron threatened.

Hermione opened her mouth, but Harry quelled her with a glare and the five of them hurried along.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Reva whispered to Harry. He glared at her.

“Shut up, you’ll find out soon enough!”

“Touchy,” Reva murmured, but she didn’t want to get caught either so she shut up after that.

They made their way to the trophy room on the third floor corridor. Reva looked around—she’d never been in here, but it was quite a sight. Cases and cases filled with trophies lined the room. She wandered over to a case at random, and a specific gleaming trophy caught her eye. _T. M. Riddle — Special Services to the School._ She felt ambition rise in her chest; she wanted to do something great for the school too, something that could get her acknowledgement in here. _R. K. Kumar — Special Services to the School_ didn’t sound too bad.

But then a noise sounded in the next room over, and Revati jumped. She looked around, panicked, at the other first years. 

“Sniff around, my dear,” came Filch’s unmistakable voice, “They might still be here.”

Reva felt her eyes widen, and she exchanged a horrified look with Hermione—there was never going to be a duel there, Malfoy had sold them out to Filch!

The boys had obviously come to the same realization, and an anxious Harry beckoned them all towards a different door. They followed him quietly, just barely making it out of the trophy room before Filch walked in.

“This way,” Harry mouthed, pointing down a different hallway. The five first years clambered quietly down the corridor, and for a brief, beautiful moment, Reva thought they’d make it out unscathed.

And then Neville tripped and knocked into Ron, who in turn staggered into a suit of armor. Reva froze, horrified at the loud cacophony that erupted from there. There was no way Filch hadn’t heard that.

“RUN!” Harry shouted, and from there it was a full sprint, the five first years flying down hallways and corridors Revati hadn’t known existed. She was following Harry’s lead, but she had a sneaking suspicion he didn’t know any better than anyone else where they were. Next to her, Hermione yelped, and Reva reached out and grabbed her friend’s arm, pulling her along.

At long last, they ended up near their charms classroom, and they stopped to catch their breath.

“I—told—you,” panted Hermione. 

“Not—the—time,” Reva wheezed, hands on her knees as she bent over. She gulped in a big breath of air, feeling her heart begin to calm down.

But they weren’t out of the woods yet, for Peeves the poltergeist came swooping by. “Out of bed so late? My, my, how naughty.”

“Get out of the way, Peeves,” snapped Ron, trying to bat him out of the way. Peeves didn’t take too kindly to this.

“STUDENTS OUT OF BED!” He shouted. “STUDENTS OUT OF BED IN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!”

“Great job, Ronald,” Revati snapped as they all took off in another run. They made their way down the next corridor but were forced to stop at the sight of a locked door.

“Come on, come on…” Harry muttered, tugging at the handle.

“Oh, move over!” Hermione hissed, before pulling out her wand and saying, “Alohamora!”

The door clicked open and the five first years ran in with no hesitation. Revati held her breath as she listened for Filch’s approach.

Peeves taunted Filch for a bit, but thankfully didn’t give them away, and Reva breathed a sigh of relief as she heard the caretaker’s footsteps recede down the hallway. 

“I think we’re okay,” Harry whispered after a few moments. “Filch thinks—what _is_ it, Neville?”

Neville let out a groan, and Reva turned to look at him in concern. He was pale and shaking, eyes fixed on something behind them. Slowly, horrified, Reva followed his gaze. Her eyes landed on a giant, three headed dog.

Reva shut her eyes, hoping she was just dreaming. But when she opened them, the dog was still there, all six eyes watching them in surprise. 

“Oh, sweet Merlin,” she breathed.

Next to her, Harry fumbled for the door. When he opened it, all five first years fell through to the other side—and just in time, too, as the dog let out a low growl and lunged at them. They slammed the door shut and ran up four floors until finally, they were outside Gryffindor tower once again. 

The Fat Lady was finally back, Reva realized with a wave of relief, so they could finally go back inside. 

“And where have you lot been?” She asked sternly, with more than a little surprise—it seemed she hadn’t expected a bunch of first years to already start sneaking out at night within the first two weeks of term.

“Doesn’t matter,” Harry said hurriedly, “Pig snout!”

Upon hearing the password, the portrait swung open and the first years tumbled in, collapsing in the armchairs in front of the fireplace. 

For a few minutes, nobody spoke. They were all too worn from the night’s adventure, and shocked at what they’d seen. 

“What are they playing at, keeping a thing like that locked up in the school?” Ron yelped at last. 

“It needs exercise,” Revati murmured to herself. “It’s just a puppy.”

“What?” Harry turned to her.

“It’s a puppy,” Revati repeated herself, her brow furrowed. “My mum’s a magizoologist, and I saw a picture of a three headed dog in one of her books— _Magical Creatures from the Mediterranean Region,_ I think. It’s called a Cerberus, and when they’re fully grown, they’re about three times the size of that one.” Her eyebrows scrunched together. “It needs to go out on walks, get some exercise, play around with other animals. They can’t just keep it cooped up in there!”

The boys were sending her incredulous looks, as though wondering why her priority wasn’t the fact that it very clearly wanted to use them as chew toys. Hermione tutted.

“Never mind that!” She shook her head. “Didn’t you see what it was standing on?”

“The floor?” Harry said, an exasperated light entering his eyes. “I wasn’t looking at its feet, I was a bit focused on the _three heads!”_

“Oh, come on, don’t any of you use your eyes?” Hermione snapped. “It was standing on a trapdoor—it must be guarding something!”

“Guarding something?” Reva repeated, puzzled. “What could possibly be hidden in the third floor corridor of a school that’s so important that they have a Cerberus puppy guarding it?”

The five first years regarded each other with confused, astonished looks. This night hadn’t quite gone the way anyone expected.

“Well—” Hermione got up, fixing Ron and Harry with a venomous glare. “I hope you two are pleased with yourselves! You could have gotten us all killed, or worse—expelled.” 

“Killed is worse than expelled, Hermione,” Reva said automatically as she, too, got up and headed to bed. Her mind was spinning with the weight of the questions lingering in the silence, even an hour later as she finally managed to drift off to sleep. 

What was going on? What was Professor Dumbledore hiding? And was the school safe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone! hope everyone is safe and healthy! sending my love to you all! 


	6. Chapter 6

Thoroughly admonished by Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall, and her mother, Revati had kept her head down for the next couple of weeks, working hard to prove she wasn’t just some insolent brat. She’d written her mother back, explaining exactly what had happened in class and why she’d reacted the way she did. Her mother hadn’t written back just yet, but Revati knew that was probably because she was kept busy by her awful Ministry job.

The morning after the incident with the Cerberus puppy, Reva confronted Hermione about lying to her the night before. Hermione seemed quite ashamed of herself, and apologized profusely. The two girls made up, and were closer than ever.

Hermione was ignoring Harry and Ron, who had seemed emboldened by their lucky escape. Reva tried her best to stay out of it, but it was futile. Hermione gave her an injured look if she didn’t back her up, and Harry and Ron seemed to think Reva had been trying to stop them from sneaking out in the first place.

“You’re a hypocrite, you know,” Ron said at breakfast one day. Hermione was studying in the library, trying to get some extra work done before Transfiguration, so Reva was eating with the other first years. “You followed us out because we might have lost points if we got caught, but you’re the one who singlehandedly lost all of Gryffindor’s points the first week.” He scowled. “And we didn’t get angry with you at that.”

Revati sighed. “For the last time, I didn’t know she was going to follow you.”

“Why didn’t you stop her when you figured it out?” Harry replied accusingly.

“Please,” Reva snorted. “You try and stop Hermione Granger when she puts her mind to something.”

“Why do you put up with her?” Ron groaned. Reva’s eyes flashed angrily and she stood up very suddenly, accidentally knocking her goblet of juice over and spilling it over an indignant Katie Bell. Katie, who was a second year and a Chaser on Gryffindor’s Quidditch team, glared at Reva as she cleaned herself up.

“That’s my best friend you’re talking about,” Reva said dangerously. “I don’t ‘put up’ with her, I enjoy spending time with her, and you’d better watch your mouth when you talk about her. She’s a lovely person, and it’s your loss if you can’t see that!” With a huff of anger, Revati gathered her things and stormed off, heading to History of Magic early.

The weeks passed by, and before Reva knew it, it was Halloween. Despite her initial attempts at making friends, she wasn’t particularly successful, and the only person she spent time with was Hermione. The two of them stuck together even as other, larger friend groups became apparent in their year. The only person who seemed to like them was Neville Longbottom, but he tended to remain neutral in their tiffs with the other first years. Harry and Ron, of course, couldn’t stand them, especially after Reva told Ron off in front of his elder brothers at breakfast that day—from what she could tell, Fred and George Weasley took great pleasure in teasing their younger brother. 

But on the morning of Halloween, Revati woke up with anticipation building in her stomach and Mango sitting on her chest. Her mother had told her, quite wistfully, about the wonderful feasts the school had every October 31st. Anjali always seemed a little down around this time of year—Reva knew that many years before, her mother had lost family to a Lethifold attack in her home in India, and though she’d never asked when it had happened, her mother had once smiled very sadly and mentioned how much she missed her brother on Halloween. 

Reva sent off a quick letter to her mum, telling her that she was thinking of her and that she loved her. Then, she made her way to breakfast with Hermione, both girls practically shaking with excitement for Charms later in the day.

Professor Flitwick had told their class that they would start learning to levitate things that day. Everyone was excited for it, and Reva even brought Mango to class so she could make her beloved toad fly. But Professor Flitwick wouldn’t let them pair off as they wanted and instead assigned them partners, so instead of Hermione, Reva found herself sitting next to a rather disgruntled Harry Potter.

The two of them practiced the charm to no avail on the feathers they were meant to be levitating. That could have very possibly been due to the bickering going on in the row just behind them, where Ron and Hermione seemed, once again, to be at odds.

“You’re doing it wrong!” Hermione was saying. “It’s ‘Wing-gar-dium Levios-a,’ make the ‘gar’ nice and long.”

Revati raised her eyebrows. She’d been saying it like Ron had, so maybe that was her problem.

“You do it then!” Ron snapped. 

Revati didn’t have to look behind her to know that Hermione perfectly executed the motion, saying, “Wingardium Leviosa!” 

The pair’s feather floated over Harry’s and Revati’s heads.

“Oh, well done, Miss Granger has done it!” Professor Flitwick squeaked excitedly. “Ten points to Gryffindor!”

It took Reva the rest of the class period to do it, but at long last she managed to make Mango fly across the room. Because she was the second person who’d successfully completed the charm, Professor Flitwick awarded her five points. Beaming, Reva waited for Hermione at the end of class as Ron marched forward to join Harry.

“Well done,” Hermione told her, hugging her books to her chest. “I knew you could do it!”

“Thanks,” Reva said. “It was really what you said to Ron that did it, you know, I’d been saying wrong, too. After that it was just getting the motion properly.”

But the pleasant air surrounding their conversation vanished as they caught the tail end of Ron’s rant to Harry. 

“It’s no wonder nobody but Revati can stand her,” he was saying, “She’s a nightmare, honestly!”

Hermione’s face crumpled, and without another word to Reva she started running down the hallway, brushing past the two boys who looked quite shocked to see her.

“I think she heard you,” Harry said.

“Oh, do you think?” Reva snapped, and the two boys whirled to face her. Ron winced but kept his mouth shut, though he did look a little ashamed. 

“Look, Reva—” Harry began.

“That’s Revati to you,” she said coldly, glaring at him. “Hermione’s a nightmare, is she? Ever consider maybe the two of you are just as much a part of the problem?” She shook her head in anger and disappointment. “I never thought my housemates would be such cruel bullies.” Revati didn’t pause to take in the affronted and stricken looks on the boys’ faces. Instead, she shouldered past them, running after her friend.

It took about a quarter of an hour, due to the size of the castle and the number of potential hiding places, but Reva eventually caught up to Hermione in the girls’ bathroom on the first floor.

Hermione was sobbing, curled up in a corner, face in her hands. Her entire body heaved with her cries, and her bookbag was lying carelessly on the floor next to her. Revati didn’t know what to say, so she just sat quietly down next to her. After a little bit, Hermione looked up at her, still crying, and the sight of her best friend upset was enough to make Reva sad, frustrated, and angry, even as she wrapped her arms around Hermione in a big hug. 

“Ron didn’t mean what he said,” she tried to say comfortingly, “He looked like he regretted it as soon as it came out of his mouth.”

“You mean as soon as he knew I heard it,” Hermione corrected, hiccupping. “He really believes it! That I’m just an awful person that everyone hates…”

“That’s not true,” Reva said soothingly, “And even if he did think that, it’s his loss! One day, you’re going to be Minister of Magic, and he’s going to know then that you are the smartest, most capable witch in our year.”

Hermione let out a fragile laugh. “And what about you? You have to be there with me!”

“Nah,” Reva gave her friend a conspiratory smile. “I’m going to be protesting Ministry policy, probably. I’m going to try and get you to notice me and do what I want you to.”

“I’m going to be very busy,” Hermione played along, “How exactly are you going to get me to listen?”

“Oh, I dunno.” Reva said. “Start setting things on fire, and soon enough someone’s going to start paying attention.”

Hermione giggled a bit, but it seemed that this particular comment of Ron’s was one too many, and despite the brief moment of levity, she wasn’t so easily consoled. They spent hours in that bathroom, skipping the rest of their classes and being interrupted by students of all ages and houses, including Parvati Patil, who, upon seeing them, gave Hermione a concerned glance but left them in privacy.

“What was it like, growing up in the Wizarding world?” Hermione asked suddenly. They were still sitting in the bathroom, and it was one of those stretches of time where Hermione calmed down temporarily, before another thought occurred to her and she burst into tears again. Reva had brought Mango out on her lap—she hadn’t had the chance to go back to the dorms—and was gently stroking her as she mused over Hermione’s question.

“Well…” Revati said slowly, “I’m not really sure how to explain it. I, er, couldn’t go to Muggle school because the nearest town is an all-wizarding community, but Mum didn’t want me to go to that school. She knew some of the families that lived there, and for some reason none of them really liked us. I think that’s where Susan Bones and Mandy Brocklehurst went, actually, but I don’t really know them.”

“So how did you learn… you know, maths and writing and things like that?”

Revati smiled at the memory. “My mum would drop me off before work every day at the house of Mrs. Tupps, who was a Squib living in the area. Mrs. Tupps would always offer me something she’d baked, and she’d give me books to read. When I was six, I think, Mum started paying her extra to teach me maths and formal writing, and so she became a sort of tutor for me.” Her smile faded a bit. “Mrs. Tupps died last year. She got a bad case of dragonpox.”

“I’m sorry,” Hermione said.

“Thanks.” Reva said. “I think we were the closest thing she had to a real family, though, poor thing. From what I heard, her parents and siblings didn’t take too kindly to her being a Squib.”

“That’s awful!”

“Yeah.” Reva nodded. “It really is.”

They sat in silence for a couple of minutes, and Mango hopped over to Hermione, who rewarded the toad with a quick pat. All of a sudden, Reva’s stomach gurgled, and she realized they had been in the bathroom for close to five hours now.

“The feast might still be going on, if you’re up to it,” Reva offered, reaching out for her toad.

Hermione smiled at her as the girls got up, Reva putting Mango in the pocket of her robes. “Yes, I think—”

But what Hermione was going to say was quickly cut off as an awful stench permeated the air, making both girls gag. 

“What on Earth—” Reva coughed, but she didn’t have to finish her question to get an answer. The door to the bathroom swung open, and in lumbered a great, ugly, angry troll. It was greenish-grey, the color of some kind of awful vomit, and it carried a big, wooden club in its hands. Behind it, the door somehow swung shut. With a sinking heart, Reva heard the latch turn.

She pulled Hermione behind the stalls and put a finger to her lips, eyes wide with horror. Trolls were notoriously stupid—if it didn’t sense any humans nearby, maybe it would lose interest and try and find some to kill and eat. It would break down the bathroom door, so the lock wouldn’t be a problem.

The troll got closer and closer, and Reva stiffened, hardly daring to breathe. Hermione’s eyes grew wider and wider, and when the shadow of the troll loomed over them, she let out a piercing shriek.

Reva clapped a hand over her friend’s mouth, but it was too late. The troll had heard them. It turned towards them, raising its club as it spotted the two girls.

“Any ideas?” She asked Hermione desperately, but the girl seemed frozen, horrified at what was going on. “Hermione!” Reva tried to get her friend to snap out of it, but Hermione didn’t react. Reva pulled out her wand, but her mind was drawing a blank. What could she do, turn matchsticks into needles? She didn’t know any spells that could help them out!

As if reacting to her fear, her wand started shooting off green sparks, and when one landed on the troll, it let out a howl and flinched back in pain.

“Er, that’s right!” Reva said, her voice shaking and her heart pounding. “Stay back!”

The bathroom door burst open, and out of the corner of her eye Reva saw Harry and Ron standing at the entrance. The troll paid them no mind, seeming to have decided it didn’t care much about the pain of the green sparks.

“Confuse it!” Yelled Harry, and the two boys started throwing random objects at the troll, which was now tearing sinks from the wall. 

“Oi, pea-brain!” Ron screamed at it. The troll heard him and turned towards him, and Harry beckoned for the girls to make a break for it.

“Come on!” Reva said, trying to tug Hermione, but she was still standing petrified next to her. 

“Run, run, run!” Harry shouted at them. 

The troll seemed agitated now, and started swinging its club all about. The four first years ducked to avoid it, but it was only a matter of time til one of them was hit.

That was when Harry Potter did something crazy.

He lunged and jumped on the troll’s back, shoving his wand up its nose. It howled in pain and tried to shake him off.

“Hermione!” Reva begged, pulling her friend. “Come on!”

Finally, Hermione snapped out of it and the two girls raced towards Ron. Harry was barely hanging on now, and Reva was fully panicking now, unsure as to what to do— 

But it was Ron who saved the day as he pointed his wand and bellowed, “Wingardium Leviosa!”

The troll’s abandoned club flew into the air and hit the troll on the head with full force. Harry, now dislodged, began the ten foot fall to the ground, but Reva stumbled over just in time for him to crash into her instead of breaking his neck. Groaning, the two first years extracted themselves and Reva immediately moved back, trying to put a good amount of distance between herself and the apparently unconscious troll. Harry leaned over it and retrieved his wand.

The four first years regarded the felled mountain troll with astonishment and no small amount of relief. Somehow, they’d done it. Somehow, they’d survived.

It was over.

Sweet Merlin, Reva’s mum was going to _kill_ her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not exactly my fave chapter tbh, but necessary, as you all well know. 
> 
> please stay safe! sending lots of love your way!


	7. Chapter 7

After the whole troll thing, Hermione and Revati became friends with Ron and Harry. Hermione had covered for the others and had lied to McGonagall so the boys didn’t get in trouble. She’d gotten five points taken off and a verbal admonishment, which for Hermione was akin to two weeks detention, but she seemed much happier for it thanks to their newfound friendship with the boys.

Harry and Ron filled them in on what they’d discovered about the three-headed dog and what it was guarding. Apparently, Harry had visited Gringotts with Hagrid over the summer, and the groundskeeper had picked up a tiny package, apparently of utmost importance—and apparently also just in time, because later that day someone had broken into Gringotts. 

Speaking of Hagrid, Reva had finally met the giant man in the middle of November, when he invited Harry and Ron to his hut for tea. The boys brought her and Hermione along, and Hagrid, immediately recognizing her as Anjali Kumar’s daughter, beamed and asked her about her mother. Reva knew that while Professor Kettleburn had been her mum’s Care of Magical Creatures instructor, she’d shared with Hagrid a fascination for more dangerous creatures, due in part to the Lethifold attack that had killed her family and sent her to live with her aunt’s family in England when she was eight.

But despite the information Revati now had, she and the others got no closer to solving the mystery of the little package. So they agreed to drop it for the time being and begin focusing on classes again.

Snape, of course, was still perfectly beastly. Reva had tried her hardest to keep her mouth shut, but there was something about Snape’s twisting expression that set her off, especially now that she was friends with Harry. She refused to accept Snape’s cruel treatment of the boy, especially when it was clear that most of what Snape said was just an excuse to pick on him. She kept trying to convince the other first years to boycott with her. Ron was willing, but none of the others would do it, so she sat sullenly in class, making her potion until she made a comment that either lost Gryffindor points, or got her kicked out of class, which had happened three times now since school started. They always began with the phrase, “Sir, I’m protesting—” and they always ended with Reva being told off by Professor McGonagall, and either her or Snape writing to her mum.

Suffice it to say, Anjali was not happy. 

_I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Revati,_ she’d written in her most recent letter, _but this has got to stop. I don’t care if Professor Snape is favoring Slytherin House. I’m sorry that he’s picking on Harry—trust me, I find that just as unfair as you—but you cannot allow your emotions to rule over you like this. I love that you’re sticking up for your friend, but if you get one more detention you are grounded when you come home._

(Anjali had never had to be stern with Reva before, so this was a first for them both. Reva never imagined that she’d get into trouble at least once a week for misbehaving in class, but there she was. She hated disappointing her mum, but Anjali didn’t have to see Snape bullying Harry and Neville every single class. She was sure that if her mum was in her position, she’d do the same).

Besides, Anjali didn’t know what they did, which was that Snape had tried to get past the three headed dog on Halloween. The four of them wouldn’t know it either, except Snape had confiscated Harry’s book and when Harry went to ask for it back, he’d seen Snape’s mangled leg. As far as Reva was concerned, he was clearly guilty of _something,_ and she wouldn’t be shocked to learn that he was after the package from Gringotts.

At any rate, it was the end of November now, and Gryffindor had their first match of the year against Slytherin. It was also the first game for three Gryffindors, including Harry—Alicia Spinnet had been one of the reserves the year before, and Katie Bell was only a second year. Reva made her way to the stands with Ron and Hermione, ready to cheer on her friend.

“Oh, Dean, do you have the banner?” Hermione asked, nudging the other boy. Grinning, he presented it to her. It said ‘Potter for President,’ and he’d drawn a wonderful lion roaring underneath. Hermione beamed back at him and performed the color-changing charm on it.

Just then, the teams walked out on the field—green facing off against red, Slytherin versus Gryffindor. Madame Hooch said a few words, too quiet for anyone in the stands to hear, then blew loudly on her whistle. At once the teams were off, and Reva noticed Harry shooting straight overhead above everyone else.

Reva grinned to herself as she watched the game, cheering with her friends (and, occasionally, helping Ron and Seamus explain things to Dean and Hermione, who’d never watched a match of Quidditch before). About halfway through the game, Hagrid came and joined them in the stands, and Ron, Hermione, and Reva scooted over to make room for him.

Almost as entertaining as the match itself was the stunning commentary provided by Lee Jordan, a third year Gryffindor who was friends with half the team and especially close with the Weasley twins. He was quite obviously biased in favor of Gryffindor, and shouted in outrage whenever Slytherin pulled off any dirty (though admittedly effective, and therefore brilliant) move, almost always inciting McGonagall’s irritation.

To be fair to Lee, Gryffindor had a great team, with the Chasers working together so cohesively they hardly needed to communicate verbally, and a Keeper who hardly ever let the Quaffle in. Fred and George Weasley, of course, were truly fantastic Beaters—Reva imagined, with some longing, that hitting the Bludgers with a giant wooden club was a particularly satisfying way of relieving aggression. 

As for Harry… Reva frowned, seeing him jerking around on his broom in an odd manner. “What’s he playing at?” She asked, nudging Ron. 

Ron’s brows furrowed. “Dunno… is he doing it on purpose?”

“If I didn’ know better, I’d say he’d lost control of his broom,” Hagrid said slowly, furrowing his brow.

“He can’t have!” Hermione gasped.

But it certainly appeared that way. Harry was rising higher and higher, his Nimbus Two Thousand doing its very best to shake him off. Suddenly, every eye was on the Gryffindor Seeker. 

“Could it have happened when Flint blocked him?” Seamus asked worriedly.

Hagrid shook his head, and Reva noticed with dawning horror that he looked genuinely scared. “That’s Dark magic,” he murmured. “Not one of yeh kids can do that.”

Worry churned in Reva’s stomach. “Why isn’t Dumbledore doing anything?” She demanded furiously. “He’s supposed to be the most powerful wizard of the age, why is he just sitting there?”

Hermione looked towards the teachers stands and gasped. “There!” She whispered to Ron and Reva. “Look at Snape!”

Reva squinted, and a new wave of fury surged through her as she noticed what Hermione had—Snape’s gaze was fixed on Harry, and he was muttering something under his breath over and over again.

“He’s jinxing Harry’s broom!” Ron said, outraged.

“Why isn’t Dumbledore doing anything?” Reva snapped.

“Quick, Reva, what was it you said about protesting?” Hermione asked suddenly.

“Er, what?”

“In the bathroom the night of the troll, you said something about protesting!” Hermione said desperately. “What did you say?”

“Er, I dunno, ‘start setting things on fire and soon enough someone will pay attention,’ or something like that.” Reva paused, realization dawning on her. “Oh.”

“But what should I set on fire?” Hermione whispered, panicked. “What will stop him?”

“His robes,” Reva murmured quickly. “That’s the only thing that will distract him for sure. Just keep the fire there long enough for him to see it, then put it out! When I said set things on fire, I didn’t mean people!”

Hermione raced off, and Reva looked back at Harry worriedly. He was going higher and higher in the sky, the Weasley twins racing after him. But soon enough, even they fell back and started circling underneath him, presumably to catch him if he fell. 

“Hang in there, Harry,” Ron moaned next to her. His eyes were fixed on their friend, freckles standing out sharply against his paled skin. 

And then, all of a sudden it stopped. 

Reva didn’t dare look over at the teachers’ section, instead keeping her attention on Harry. As she watched, he managed to rush towards the ground, and for a moment, Reva thought he was going to be sick. But when he gagged, he pulled the Snitch out of his mouth. He stared at it for a moment, seemingly shocked, then he raised his fist in the air, yelling, “I caught the Snitch!”

Victory had never tasted so sweet.

* * *

“Snape was the one jinxing your broom,” Ron said half an hour later, as the four first years sat in Hagrid’s hut. “We saw him.”

“Nonsense,” Hagrid protested, “Why woul’ he do that?”

The four of them exchanged significant looks.

“Well—” Harry said hesitantly, “He tried to get past that three headed dog on Halloween—”

“How do you know about Fluffy?” Hagrid demanded, accidentally dropping the plate of rock cakes he’d just pulled from the oven.

“Fluffy?” Reva cut in. “The Cerberus puppy’s name is Fluffy?”

“He’s mine,” Hagrid explained, “Got him from a Greek wizard I met las’ year—I lent him to Dumbledore to—” But he cut himself off, seeming to realize he was giving away information.

“To what?” Harry asked.

“I’m not supposed to be tellin’ yeh,” Hagrid said sternly.

“But Snape’s trying to steal it!” Ron protested.

“He’s a professor,” Hagrid said, “Why would he be stealin’—” 

“Well, why was he trying to kill Harry?” Hermione asked shrilly. “I know what curses are like, I’ve read about them, and Snape was definitely focusing just on Harry and doing some sort of magic!”

“Yeh’re wrong!” Hagrid said. “I dunno what was up with Harry’s broom, but I’m tellin’ yeh it wasn’t Snape! As for Fluffy, the four of yeh best be forgettin’ about him, and what he’s guardin’— that’s top secret, that is, between Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel—”

“Nicholas Flamel?” Harry said. Hagrid looked ready to kick himself.

“Hagrid,” Reva said, before the man blew a gasket, “Doesn’t Fluffy need constant exercise? He’s still growing, isn’t he?”

Hagrid, seemingly relieved that they were on a safer topic (though not out of the danger zone), beamed at Reva and said, “Ah, jus’ like yer mother. Dumbledore’s promised me he’s expanded the room, so poor Fluffy can run around and have fun, jus’ as he used to.”

“Speaking of Dumbledore…” Reva frowned, turning to her friends. “Why didn’t he do something today?” 

“What do you mean?” Asked Ron.

“Well, he was right there with the rest of the school when Harry’s broom went berserk,” Reva pointed out, “But he didn’t do anything. It’s not even like it was particularly difficult, yeah? I mean, Hermione saved Harry.”

“What are yeh sayin’?” Hagrid bristled. “That Dumbledore had somethin’ ter do with this?”

“No!” Reva said immediately. “I don’t think he cursed Harry. I’m with Hermione, I think it was Snape. I’m just wondering why he didn’t save him.”

“Well, clearly he trusts Snape,” Hermione offered. “He probably wasn’t expecting the attack to be from a staff member.”

“Yeah,” Reva said hesitantly. “Maybe.”

She didn’t quite know what to make of it. Hermione could be right—perhaps Dumbledore trusted Snape so much he didn’t consider the other man as a potential culprit. Still, it was odd that when first year magic was enough to break Snape’s concentration, the Headmaster just sat there, watching with everyone, instead of doing something to distract the school (and therefore the person jinxing Harry’s broom). She sighed. Every instinct was telling her that something was wrong, that it was too easy, that a first year, even one as precocious as Hermione, shouldn’t have been quicker to figure it out than the great Albus Dumbledore.

But he was one of the biggest heroes of the Wizarding World, so she put it behind her.

* * *

“Today,” sneered Professor Snape the next Tuesday, “You will be brewing the universal Antidote to Common Poisons by yourselves. I expect you all to follow the instructions in your textbooks—unless, of course, you find yourselves incompetent of even the most basic of tasks.” He let his gaze fall over Neville, who cowered even as he burned red with embarrassment.

Malfoy snickered.

Reva’s jaw worked and she opened her mouth, but Ron delivered a solid kick to her stool from where he sat with Harry behind her and hissed, “Don’t be stupid, Reva, he’s not worth it.”

Ron was right. Besides, she’d had four letters sent home to her mum already and she wasn’t even done with her first semester. She would do her very best to be good. 

It didn’t help Reva’s case that she wasn’t great at brewing potions. She was better than Neville, certainly, and even perhaps than Ron and Harry, but Hermione, Daphne Greengrass, Blaise Zabini, and unfortunately Malfoy, were all far better than she was at it. She frowned down at her instructions as she tried to crush her Bezoar. She wasn’t doing so well with it, and Snape noticed.

“Well, well, well,” he said, towering over her with cold amusement, “It would appear, Miss Kumar, that despite your constant need to advise me how to teach, you do not actually know what you are talking about.”

Reva bristled, but bit her tongue, ignoring him.

“How unfortunate,” Snape continued, “That your mother’s talent for school skipped you. I expect, then, that you got your father’s genes—whoever he is.”

 _Whoever he is…_ was he saying that her mother didn’t know who her father was? Anger burned through Reva at that and she snapped her head up. The rest of the class gave up any pretense of focusing on their potions (except Hermione, who actually was), and turned their attention to the professor and his worst student. “What exactly are you implying about my mother, _sir?_ ” She demanded.

A triumphant gleam entered Snape’s eyes, though he said smoothly, “I did not imply anything. It is merely fact that you do not take after your mother in academic pursuits. Pity—perhaps you will outperform her in relationships.”

The class held their breath. 

Reva’s eyes flashed angrily. “Professor, I’m terribly sorry that my mother’s personal life is such a distraction to you. I imagine it must be very difficult for you to teach properly when you’re so busy wondering about the parentage of the students in your class—I can’t imagine what goes through your head when you see Zabini, considering how many marriages his poor mother has suffered. Unfortunately, sir, I’m afraid that my mother’s personal life mightn’t be the most rewarding subject for gossip. If I may, Witch Weekly subscriptions are only twelve sickles a month. I’d be more than happy to sign you up for owl delivery.”

Snape’s eyes glittered. “Fifteen points from Gryffindor, Kumar,” he said silkily. “And—”

“Detention.” Said Reva, going back to crushing her Bezoar with her pestle. “I know the drill, one hour on Saturday, sorting Potions supplies.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “For that, you can take another five points from Gryffindor, and add two more hours to Saturday.”

“Sir, yes sir.” Reva muttered under her breath.

But something was different this time. Snape seemed to have realized something that Reva hadn’t. He was satisfied, this time, when Reva rose to his bait—before, he’d been furious at the sign of disrespect. Now, he kept his cool and remained in control.

And Reva didn’t like that one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wrote this before life got wild. hope everyone's doing well.
> 
> hope you enjoy! lmk what you thought.
> 
> stay safe! love all of you. hoping for everyone's health and safety.


	8. Chapter 8

_Revati,_

_Much as I appreciate your apparent chivalry in defending my honor against your Potions Professor, I assure you that I can handle myself and you needn’t get detention on my behalf. My time at Hogwarts overlapped with Severus Snape’s, and though I hardly saw him, I’m not surprised he knows me by reputation. He is not the first to question whether I know who your father is, and he certainly won’t be the last. I advise you pay that kind of talk no mind—you and I know what’s right, and that’s enough._

_I’m tired of receiving letters from your professors for your behavior in Potions. I told you there would be consequences if I got another owl, so here they are—you are to remain home and help me out with the farm all summer—yes, with the Knarls and Nogtails, too. You may write to your friends, but you will not be meeting with them, except, perhaps, to get next years’ supplies. I’m sorry to be so harsh, but asking you to behave didn’t seem to work, and this is the only solution I have otherwise._

_I’m sure you’re wondering why this punishment is for the summer. I’m sorry, darling, but my boss wants me to go to Germany tomorrow to help them against a number of Manticores that are wreaking havoc in Stuttgart. I’ll be gone for at least a week because of the paperwork and the international regulations, so much as I’d love to see you over the holidays, I think it’s best that you stay at school. You’ve told me that your friends Ron and Harry are staying too, so please spend some time with them and have a good break. I’ll miss you, but I don’t want you to stop having fun on my behalf._

_I’ve sent you one of my old school books on magical creatures from my time at Hogwarts. It’s fourth year material, but it isn’t as though you’ll be working with them (and besides, I suppose between you and your friend Hermione, the two of you have run out of books to read in the library). I remember you asked about Cerberus dogs in your last letter, so I made sure the book I sent had a section on them. Why the sudden interest? We’re not getting one as a pet, I’m telling you right now—you’ll go off to school and then I’ll be the one taking care of the dog._

_Love you dearly,_

_-Mum_

Reva looked up at her mum’s expectant owl at breakfast, two mornings before break. “Sorry, Elvie,” she sighed, “I don’t have treats on me. Go on, I’ll come by with a letter to Mum later.”

Elvie gave her an affronted look, then huffily took to the air, flying out of the Great Hall and presumably to the Owlery, where she’d wait until Reva gave her a letter to take back to Anjali.

“Wha’s happeneh?” Asked Ron through a mouthful of eggs.

Reva scrunched up her face at the sight but replied anyway. “Mum’s working over break, so I’m actually going to be here with you two during the break.”

“Wicked!” Said Harry, grinning at her. 

“Excellent,” said Hermione matter-of-factly. “Then you can help the boys continue researching Nicholas Flamel.”

That’s what the four Gryffindors had been doing for the past few weeks—looking for the elusive Flamel to figure out what exactly it was that Fluffy the Cerberus was guarding. Hermione swore up and down that she’d heard that name before, as had (surprisingly) Harry, but neither Ron nor Revati had a clue as to who he was. 

“I suppose so,” Revati said. She was excited to spend more time in the castle, but she couldn’t help feeling a bit sad that she wasn’t going to be seeing her mum. 

“Didn’t you say your mum’s working for the Ministry?” Ron asked, thankfully swallowing his eggs before he spoke. 

“Yeah, for the Department of Magical Creatures,” Revati said. “She doesn’t like it very much, though, since it’s mostly deskwork and regulation and she wanted to do fieldwork and conservation in her areas of expertise.”

“What’s that, then?” Hermione asked interestedly.

“Initially she wanted to do diplomatic relations with Magical Beings, but that was during the War and they weren’t looking for many people with that skill set, so she also doubled in the study of Lethifolds and dragonology.”

“Hey, our brother Charlie’s a dragonologist!” exclaimed Fred Weasley as he and his twin George sat down besides the first years. Revati didn’t know them very well personally, and had only interacted with them when they wanted something from Ron, but their reputation preceded them.

“So I’ve heard,” Reva said dryly. The twins grinned at her.

“So you’re staying here, too, then?” George grabbed a plate and loaded it with sausage. “That makes six of us in Gryffindor Tower over the break.”

“That’ll be nice,” Harry said offhandedly, “We might get a shot at the good armchairs in the common room, then.”

“Am I the only girl staying, then?” Asked Reva, slightly crestfallen. She didn’t much like the idea of being alone in her dorm Christmas morning while the boys unwrapped their presents in their rooms.

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” George said bracingly. “We’ll probably all be by the fireplace, anyway.”

“Course, you might not want to hang with these specky gits on Christmas day,” Fred grinned, nudging Ron.

“You could probably stay with them in the boys’ dorm the night before,” Hermione pointed out. “I mean, if Ron and Harry don't mind.”

Ron shrugged. “I shared with my sister Ginny ‘til Bill moved to Egypt,” he said to her. “I don’t care.”

Harry gave her a small smile that hinted at a little sadness and understanding. “Of course you can crash with us. Nobody should spend Christmas morning alone.” 

* * *

That was how Revati found herself waking up on a makeshift bed in the first year boys’ dorm on the morning of December 25th, to the sound of Ron yelling, “Merry Christmas!”

Reva let out a yawn as she sat up from her pile of blankets and looked around. Overnight, presents had appeared in a little pile at the foot of their beds.

“I’ve got presents!” Harry gasped in excitement.

“Well, of course you do,” Reva said, grinning at him. 

“Excellent ones, I might add. We’re your friends, aren’t we?” Ron said.

“I just… I wasn’t expecting…” Harry trailed off, looking quite pleased with them. “Never mind. This is brilliant!”

“Well, open them first!” Ron rolled his eyes. As Harry looked over at his presents with delight, Reva caught Ron’s eye and the two of them shared a look.

It wasn’t the first time Harry had hinted at a less-than-happy life with his aunt and uncle. From what she’d heard, they’d never given him anything better than a pair of old socks, and the first bit of mail he’d ever received was his Hogwarts letter. By silent agreement, she and Ron left their presents unopened to watch Harry experience his first real Christmas.

Harry beamed as he tore into his first present. Hagrid had given him a flute, clearly hand carved. The next thing had been an oddly shaped little coin from his aunt and uncle. Reva and Ron both peered at it, perplexed and intrigued. 

“It’s so strange!” Ron exclaimed. 

“You can keep it,” Harry laughed at them. Ron looked flabbergasted.

“But it says it’s fifty pence, Harry! That’s a lot of pence, isn’t it? Are you sure you don’t want it?”

“Trust me, Ron, it’s yours.”

“Blimey, thanks Harry!” Ron said, eyes bright.

The next thing to come out of Harry’s pile was a very lumpy looking package, which Ron seemed to immediately recognize. 

“I think that’s from my mum,” he said, suddenly embarrassed. “I wrote to her, telling her that you didn’t expect presents, Harry, and that you had to change your plans last minute and couldn’t see your mum, Reva, so she must have sent something for you.”

Reva glanced down at her pile—sure enough, a similarly wrapped package was waiting for her. 

“That’s really kind of her,” Harry said, looking touched as he opened the parcel. He pulled out an emerald green sweater, which he immediately pulled on.

“She made you a Weasley sweater!” Ron groaned. “Well, good thing yours is a nice color. Mine’s always maroon.”

“It’s lovely,” Harry said, grinning.

“Wow, Ron, your mum’s the best!” Reva added. It was really sweet of Mrs. Weasley to think of them—Harry especially—during Christmas. A warm feeling settled in her chest.

Harry opened Hermione’s present next. She’d bought him a book (of course), but it was his own copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ so he didn’t have to continue borrowing the library copy. Ron had gotten him a whole box of Chocolate Frogs, which he opened immediately. And Reva had gifted him some polish for his broomstick—after that first match, she had a feeling he’d need to take care of his poor Nimbus more than most other people.

Harry picked up the last package at the foot of his bed and opened it. Inside was a long, silvery cloak that seemed to shimmer even in the still air. 

“Is that—” Ron gasped.

“Can’t be!” Reva said, shocked.

“What?” Harry asked.

“Try it on!” Reva urged. Shrugging, Harry put it on, and Ron let out a little yell as his body disappeared.

“It is!” He said.

“But they’re really, really rare, aren’t they?” Reva murmured. “I mean, Invisibility cloaks are really tricky magic!”

“Invisibility—” Harry frowned, then looked down. He gasped. “I’m invisible!” He ran over to the mirror to look at himself (or, rather, the lack of himself).

A note fluttered out and Harry picked it up, looking stricken as he read it.

“It says… it says this belonged to my dad.” He whispered.

“Oh… Harry,” Reva whispered. She didn’t know what to say at the look of sadness that had quickly entered his eyes. 

“Mate…” Ron started, before trailing off. He seemed to be having the same issue as Revati.

Harry shook himself out of it. “Don’t worry,” he said, taking off his cloak. “You two open your presents,” he said with forced brightness. 

Ron and Reva exchanged a worried glance, but did so anyway. Soon, the tension that had filled the air after Harry found his dad’s cloak lifted, and the three first years laughed and talked as Ron and Reva opened their presents.

Hermione had given Ron some Fizzing Whizbees, which he seemed excited about. Harry had gotten him a bunch of Muggle sweets, which had fascinated him. His elder brothers had gotten him some souvenirs from where they lived—Egypt and Romania accordingly. Reva had found him a Chudley Cannons poster, having heard him make offhanded remarks about his favorite team. Finally, he pulled out a maroon sweater, smiling affectionately at it even as he scrunched up his nose at the color.

Reva had gotten a Weasley sweater as well, which made her beam widely at Ron. Hers was a burnt orange, close to a sunset color, and she pulled it on immediately, just as Harry had. Hermione gifted her a Muggle book of fairy tales which she found quite interesting—the first one, which she skimmed, was about a poor girl named after _soot_ of all things, whose godmother had magic but clearly wasn’t very good at Transfiguration (all of her spells timed out at midnight), and whose best friends were mice. Muggle fairy tales were _wild,_ she decided, eyes widening at the pictures in the book, which refused to move no matter how much she prodded at them. Ron had gotten her a bunch of treats for Mango. He seemed to take a shining to her toad despite himself, as Mango tended to hop about the Gryffindor common room quite often and, along with Neville’s toad Trevor, had become the unofficial House mascot. Ron, despite his frequent grumbling to the contrary, didn’t seem to mind as much as some other students when Mango made herself at home on top of his head. 

From Harry, she’d received a whole bag of pumpkin pasties. Next to her mum’s Cauldron Cakes, they were her favorite Wizarding treat, and she rewarded him with a huge grin as she bit into one and offered the two boys another. Her uncle had gotten her assorted chocolates, as well as a book called _Curses and Counter-curses_ _(Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More)_. His note said not to mention to her mum that he’d given it to her, and to be careful when using the spells. Finally, she opened her mum’s present, grinning as she pulled out an enchanted figurine of a three headed dog, growling up at them. It was small enough to rest on the palm of her hand, and her mother’s note said, _This is the closest you’re getting to having one as a pet, young lady, unless you can prove yourself responsible enough to take care of one._

Her mum had sent her something else—a small wooden box, extremely light and seemingly empty. There were two envelopes attached at the top. One of them was blank, but the other read OPEN ME REVA, so the girl complied, frowning.

_Reva,_

_This is a gift for your friend Harry Potter. Please give it to him in private, when he’s alone or surrounded only by his closest friends._

_There’s one question in your life that you never thought to ask me, and so I never answered it. It is time now for that secret to come to light._

_Love,_

_-Mum_

Frowning, Reva opened her mouth to tell Harry about the present, but before she could speak, Fred and George Weasley bounded in.

“Merry Christmas!” They cheered together.

“Hey, look! Harry and Reva have Weasley sweaters too!” One of them, wearing a blue sweater with an ‘F’ on it, pointed.

“Theirs is better than ours,” noticed the other one—Fred, Reva guessed, given that he was wearing the ‘G’ sweater. “Mum must go through more effort if you’re not family.”

“Why aren’t you wearing yours, Ron?” George sat on his younger brother’s bed. “Come on, put it on, they’re all nice and warm!”

“I hate maroon,” Ron grumbled, but everyone in the room saw through it as he happily pulled his sweater over his head.

“Yours doesn’t have a letter, though,” George said, grinning. “I guess she doesn’t think you forget your name. But we’re not stupid, we know people call us Gred and Forge.”

The five Gryffindors shared a laugh.

“That’s why you’ve switched sweaters, is it?” Asked Harry, chuckling.

Fred’s eyes widened in mock offense. “Haven’t the faintest clue what you’re talking about, Harry.” He joked.

“Of course not,” Reva snickered. 

“The ‘G’ is for Gred, weren’t you listening?” Fred smirked at her.

“What’s all this noise about?” Percy Weasley frowned, poking his head in the doorway. “Revati?” He noticed her. “What are you doing in the boys’ dorms? That’s against—”

“Oi, lay off her, it’s Christmas,” George said, jumping forwards and grabbing Percy’s sweater. “There we are, ‘P’ for Prefect, Perce! Put it on, we’re all wearing ours!”

“And you’re sitting with us at dinner today,” Fred added as he joined George, forcing Percy’s sweater over his head.

“But—”

“No buts, Perce!” George said, as he and Fred began marching their elder brother out. “Christmas time is family time!”

And Revati, Ron, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh as they watched the three elder Weasleys’ antics. Reva spared Harry a glance—surely her mum’s present ought to wait until the night. That was the only way to be sure that Harry had access to as much privacy as he needed when he opened the little box lying among Reva’s things.

And hopefully, when he did, Anjali’s secrets would be revealed.

* * *

It was only hours later, after dinner, that Reva was able to pull Harry aside as the Weasleys walked together to Gryffindor Tower, a few paces ahead of them. They’d all spent the day together, even Percy, who’d sat and played referee while the rest of them played a game of Quidditch with a couple of the twins’ friends from Hufflepuff. They were all cold and wet from the snow, but they were happy and exhilarated as they all trudged back to the castle for a lovely Christmas feast that lasted two hours.

Now the twins were dragging Percy around, and Ron was standing next to George, having a quick conversation as Fred cheerfully spoke over Percy’s spluttered complaints. 

“Hey,” she shifted nervously, recalling the cryptic nature of her mother’s letter. “I have another present for you.”

“Oh.” Harry blinked, surprised but grateful. “You really didn’t have to, Reva, honestly—”

“It’s not from me,” she explained quickly. “It’s from my mum.”

“That’s really nice of her,” Harry said. He shook his head. “You know, between your mum and Ron’s…” He trailed off, eyes narrowing suspiciously behind his glasses as he looked at her nervous expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” Reva said. “She was just… acting strangely about it in her letter, that’s all.” She afforded him a smile. “It’s probably nothing, I’m just being silly.”

Harry didn’t look terribly convinced, but he didn’t bring it up again until they were finally alone with Ron in the first year boys’ dorms thirty minutes later. Fred and George had hung around for a bit, stealing some of Ron’s sweets, joking around with Reva and Harry, and generally horsing around. But finally, even they decided they were bored of the dorms and headed down to the common room, probably to come up with new jokes to play on returning students the next wee.

Without a word, Reva grabbed the small box her mum had sent her. The unaddressed envelope was still stuck to it as she passed it over to Harry.

“What’s that, then?” Asked Ron curiously. Reva explained the situation quickly as Harry looked at the box in his hands with a bit of trepidation.

“Somehow, I feel like this is going to change things,” he confessed, pushing his glasses higher on his nose.

“Are you okay with that?” Reva asked. She had a feeling he was right—her mother wasn’t particularly dramatic, and preferred to cut right to the chase on important matters. For her to act with such secrecy… well, it didn’t bode very well.

“I don’t know.” Harry murmured. He picked up the envelope on top. 

“Well,” said Ron practically, “Only one way to find out.”

Harry tore open the letter. He only seemed to get through one line before his confused expression turned suddenly stunned. Almost immediately, his piercing green eyes widened, his face paled dramatically, and he looked winded. Reva almost feared he’d passed out.

“Harry! Are you okay? What’s wrong?” Asked Ron worriedly.

“‘Dear Harry,’” read Harry out loud, his voice shaking as it barely rose above a whisper, “‘This will probably come as a shock to you, and I’m terribly sorry about that. My name is Anjali Kumar, and I am your aunt.’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it's cliche but bear with me! the brown girls deserve the cliche's too!
> 
> stay safe everyone!


	9. Chapter 9

_Dear Harry,_

_This will probably come as a shock to you, and I’m terribly sorry about that. My name is Anjali Kumar, and I am your aunt._

_I was born in India to a magical family, the youngest of four children. I was supposed to attend Ardramatsya Institute for Magic, but when I was eight years old, my family died in a Lethifold attack. I was too small to interest the creatures, but they devoured the rest of my immediate family in a single night. I was sent to live with my only living relative, my father’s sister, who’d married an English wizard named Fleamont Potter some fifteen years before._

_Fleamont Potter was your grandfather, Harry. His wife, my aunt, was your grandmother. Her name was Ehimaya Kumar Potter._

_The Potters took me in immediately. Your father James was my age, and though we were cousins, by the time we started at Hogwarts we considered each other more like siblings. I was Sorted into Ravenclaw, and despite your father’s Quidditch popularity and lion pride, he always made time for me. Your mother and I didn’t initially know one another, but in fourth year we were paired together on a Herbology project, and we grew to be rather good friends._

_Your parents were wonderful people, Harry, and they loved you very much. We were living in the darkest of times, and there was precious little to be happy about—but in the Potter household, there was nothing but smiles and laughter and love, and it was you that drew it out of them as much as they brought it out in each other. They loved you dearly Harry, and they would be so proud to see you at Hogwarts, especially in Gryffindor where they were, though they would have been happy no matter where you ended up. I never want you to doubt that._

_I’m sure you must also be wondering why this is the first you’ve heard of me. You might be angry, rightfully so, to learn that you had some family that could have taken you in instead of Lily’s sister. I wish that were the case—I went back and forth with the Ministry of Magic for close to three years, begging them to let me bring you home so you could grow up the way I did, raised by your father’s sister alongside your cousin._

_The Ministry, unfortunately, refused me custody. Your closest blood relative is, after all, Lily’s sister, while I as James’ cousin appeared to have a more distant family tie. Moreover, I am not of the Potter bloodline, so I had no power as a Head of a Wizarding family. The Minister told me it was for your safety, and she assured me that you would be better protected with a stronger blood tie, especially as I didn’t even have the resources of being the Head of the Potter family to use to defend you. Even that would have been bearable, for the sake of your well being, if I were allowed to visit you._

_Wizards were forbidden from making direct contact with you, Harry. We were physically unable to find your location on a map—your Aunt and Uncle’s house remains, to this day, Unplottable to wizards and only accessible by Muggles (though I suspect that once you return to their house for summer, that enchantment will be lifted, as you will also be a trained wizard). There were only four people who knew and could visit where you lived: Albus Dumbledore, the Minister of Magic Millicent Bagnold, Minerva McGonagall, and Rubeus Hagrid._

_Unplottability is difficult to explain, as it comes in several forms. I won’t bore you with unnecessary digressions, but the charm placed over your house made it so witches and wizards could never physically visit you, unless they were one of the four I mentioned before (and since last year, Cornelius Fudge, who is Bagnold’s successor). However, Professor Dumbledore very kindly told me the address of your Aunt’s house, and I used the Muggle post to mail you for every birthday and Christmas. If I tried to contact you more than that, the Ministry would be made aware of it. Fanmail was blocked from your house, as all of it came through the Owl Post, and like I said before, your house was untouchable by magical means. There were Ministry workers monitoring the Muggle post, too. A Christmas package and a birthday present wouldn’t raise any alarms as they’d assume it was another Muggle relative of yours, but if I contacted you more than that they’d get suspicious and look through my parcels._

_This was when I learned the true natures of your aunt and uncle. Every single package I sent you over the past ten years was returned, unopened, with not a single acknowledgement of you. They had seen the posts when you were young, and realized I sent parcels every year on July 31st and December 25th. They went out of their way to make sure you never saw them. I kept sending you gifts, and I came to expect them to return, which they always did. For ten years, up to your eleventh birthday five months ago, I kept every single gift and letter I sent you that came back to our doorstep._

_Then Revati boarded the Hogwarts Express and I knew you must have been there, somewhere. I looked for you, but you must have already been on the train. I hoped Reva would get to know you, and though it seemed to be a rough start, I was delighted to learn that not only were you housemates, you actually became friends. She doesn’t know about any of this, by the way—all I’ve told her is that she has a cousin in Surrey. I never told her who you were, even though she would have recognized your name instantly. I imagined that you’d at least recognize her around the school, if nothing else. But I knew that even if you never spoke to her, I would tell you everything this Christmas._

_Why not before? Because you would be busy with classes and I didn’t want you to have to face the stress of Hogwarts with all of this loaded on top. I hoped, by waiting until now, that I would give you the time to recover from the shock of everything._

_I am aware that I am dumping quite a lot of information on you, and I’m sorry, Harry, truly. I know it must be extremely overwhelming, and I can’t properly convey how much I hate having to put all this on your shoulders. I just felt that I owed you an honest, thorough explanation as to why I haven’t been present in your life. It is my biggest regret._

_There is one more piece to this that I am legally forbidden from telling you, and that could certainly change the way you see things. My hope is that one day the restrictions placed on me are lifted—but til then, know that this is almost the whole truth, and I would explain the last bit of it were I able._

_I’m also not telling you all this to guilt you into forgiving me. I know you must be angry, and I’m not trying to diminish or minimize that by any means. I just wanted to make sure you were getting the full story, because it’s the least you deserve. There must have been something I could have done, some loophole I could have found, and my failure in that had serious consequences in your life. If you are upset with me, I understand completely. If you don’t want me to ever contact you, I would understand that, too—though make no mistake, Harry, I want nothing more than to be a part of your life._

_Love always,_

_-Anjali Kumar_

_P.S.: This box has been magically expanded to contain every parcel I sent you over the past ten years, as well as this year’s Christmas present. Some of the gifts may no longer interest you, as they were meant for a smaller version of you. If you want to discard anything in that box, you will face no judgement for doing so. Other gifts are more personal, and I hope you find comfort in them._

_Love,_

_-Anjali Athai (Aunt)_

* * *

Reva sat downstairs in front of the fire with Ron. Her eyes were fixed, unseeing, on the flickering flames. She felt Ron’s gaze on her a few times, but the ginger never broke the silence, which she was grateful for. Her mind was racing. She wasn’t sure how to process.

Harry hadn’t read any more of the letter out loud to them. Those four words— _I am your aunt—_ lingered in the air as they all fell silent, stunned, not knowing how to react. Harry stared blankly at the page, and when Ron asked him gently if he needed space, he nodded absently, refusing to meet Reva’s eye. Ron and Revati headed downstairs immediately, where they had now been sitting for forty-five minutes. Fred and George were still there, but they seemed to take a cue from the first years’ sullen silence, and didn’t try to engage them, instead keeping their heads together to cause some kind of mischief.

“I didn’t know,” Reva breathed finally. She kept her eyes fixed on the fire, but she knew Ron was staring at her. “My mum never told me…”

“Why d’you think she mentioned it now?” Ron asked. “Why not years ago?”

Reva thought back. She remembered her first conversation with Hermione on the train, when they spoke about family. _Mum says I have a cousin somewhere in England, but she mails him on Christmas and his birthday every year and he never responds,_ she’d said. Knowing what she did now about Harry’s aunt and uncle, Reva supposed it all made sense. “You’ve heard as much as I have about the Muggles Harry lives with,” she said. “I imagine they didn’t take too kindly to Mum, probably wouldn’t let her see or speak to Harry.”

“That’s awful,” Ron sighed. The two of them exchanged a slightly guilty, but mutually reassuring glance—they both knew, of course, how bad prejudice against Muggles could be in the Wizarding world, but it wasn’t as though they hated the Dursleys because they weren’t magical. They couldn’t stand the way those particular Muggles treated their friend.

“Oh, Merlin,” Reva choked out, remembering something else.

“What is it?”

“I just… I always knew Mum lost someone around Halloween, I’d just always thought it was her family in India. She doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“But Halloween—” Ron gaped. All magical children knew that as the day You-Know-Who was defeated by Harry Potter, just over ten years before.

“Yeah,” Reva whispered. “If she’s related to James Potter, then that’s the day she lost him.”

The two first years fell silent once more. Eventually, Ron started snoring away in his armchair, but Reva didn’t wake him. Instead she sat, wide awake, staring at the fire in front of her. Her thoughts were loud and a little overwhelming as she tried to understand just what was going on.

An hour passed, then another.

The portrait door creaked open, and Reva looked up, frowning. She didn’t see anyone, but she caught the flash of a scuffed white trainer and her eyebrows furrowed.

“Is anyone there?” She called hesitantly. 

For a long moment, there was no response. The portrait hole swung shut. Revati began to figure she’d just imagined it, when— 

“Gah!” She yelped, jumping as Harry pulled the Invisibility cloak off his head. Ron grunted in his sleep, but didn’t wake up. “Harry!”

Harry didn’t say anything. There was a strange look on his face, joy mingled with terrible sorrow.

“Are you headed out?” Reva asked in a whisper, moving closer to him and away from the fireplace where Ron snored lightly. Harry shook his head absently.

“Just coming in,” he murmured. “You didn’t notice when I left, you were just staring at the fire.”

“Oh.” Reva didn’t know what to say. What did people typically do when they found out one of their best friends (who happened to be a famous hero) was their long lost cousin? “Where did you go?” She asked lamely as she sat down at a table in the back corner of the common room, avoiding the elephant in the room. Harry seemed all too happy to go along with it and sat down across from her.

“Restricted Section,” he said, “To look for Flamel.”

“Oh.” She repeated. She wasn’t expecting that, but she supposed it made sense. It didn’t explain the odd expression in Harry’s eyes, though, which worried her. “Did… did something happen while you were there?”

Harry was silent for a long moment. “I’ll tell you about it in the morning, when Ron’s awake.” Then, he switched topics. “I read your mum’s letter.”

Reva didn’t say anything. She’d figured as much, but she supposed there was always the possibility that Harry just set it aside so that he wouldn’t have to deal with it just yet.

“She said you didn’t know.” Harry sighed and glanced at her furtively. “You didn’t know that you’re my cousin.”

There was an aching kind of hope in his voice, but his face was guarded. Revati felt worry swirl in her stomach. Her heart pounded with anxiety as her palms sweated nervously.

“No,” Revati agreed. “I didn’t know.” 

Harry stared in her direction, but wouldn’t meet her eyes. Instead, his gaze fixed on a point just above her ear. “Is that… are you okay with it?” He asked hesitantly.

Revati blinked. “Wait, what?” She asked incredulously. “Am _I_ okay with it?” She gaped at the nervous boy in front of her before flinging her arms around him in a tight hug. “Harry, you’re one of my best friends and I just found out you’re family. Of _course_ I’m okay with it. I was worried _you_ weren’t! I mean, it’s a lot to handle, isn’t it?”

Harry looked relieved as he hugged her back. Pulling away, he let out a shaky breath and ran a hand through his already unruly black hair. “Yeah, of course. But… I dunno, your mum’s letter just felt…” He shook his head slowly, eyes distant behind his glasses. “It felt like she really cared. I didn’t ever feel like she was lying to me.”

Reva smiled. “She does care,” she said fondly. “There’s nobody kinder in the world than my mum. And that’s the thing about her—she _never_ lies. She’s always told me the truth, even when I was five and I asked her about my dad…”

“What’s the deal with your dad, then?” Harry asked, eyes alight with eagerness. Reva supposed he’d want to know all about her family—their family.

Reva shrugged. “He and my mum went a few times a couple years after she got out of school. She ended up pregnant and he ran off. I’ve never met him.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said quickly. “I didn’t know… I mean, you only ever talk about your mum, so I figured they weren’t together, but…”

“You thought they’d divorced, or something,” Reva finished knowingly. “No, nothing like that. You heard Snape last month.”

“It’s Snape,” Harry pointed out. “I thought he was just lying.”

“He is, sort of,” Reva said. “I mean, my mum knows who my dad is. There are spells people can cast during a pregnancy to figure that sort of thing out. Plus she was very careful about everything. But… well, she was twenty and just dating around. She wasn’t exactly looking for a long term commitment at the time.”

“And your dad just… left?” Harry asked.

“Yeah,” Reva shrugged. “But apparently the aunt she moved in with—”

“My grandmother,” Harry put in.

“Really?” Reva said, only a little surprised. She’d figured it was something like that, but it was still odd to hear that she was related by blood to the Boy-Who-Lived. “Well, your grandmother was really supportive of her, as was her husband and son… oh. Your dad.” She realized. Her mum had never really used names in her stories, except for her cousin’s friend, Remus, who of course was the uncle who came over for dinner on Sundays. Revati had once thought it was because the memories were too painful. Now, she supposed, it was so that Reva didn’t piece together the secret. She might have been a little hurt, except that her mum had still never lied to her, despite the obviously secretive information she was privy to, and that meant the world.

“Yeah,” Harry smiled, a hint of pride in his eyes. “My dad.”

Reva smiled back at him. “Well, your dad had some friends who were willing to help my mum out.”

“Really?” Harry asked eagerly. “Are they still around?”

“Er…” Reva frowned, thinking about it. “Well, one of them comes around for dinner every week, he’s the one who sent me the book on jinxes. I think another died in the war, that’s what mum said. And she lost touch with a third, says he disappeared or they had a falling out or something.”

“Oh.” Harry said.

“Yeah.” Reva said. “It gets a bit lonely sometimes.” She glanced out the corner of her eye. “But now that I know I have a cousin my age, I’m sure it’ll get a lot easier. You can spend summers with us!” She realized, beaming with excitement. “Mum would love to have you, I bet, and you’re family, aren’t you? I can show you the farm, and you can help me with the Nogtails, and we can have dinners with Mum—fair warning, her cooking’s not amazing, so we’ll probably be eating a lot of Chinese takeout… that is, if you want to stay with us, of course.” She finished hesitantly.

“I’d love that,” Harry said immediately, grinning. His green eyes glowed bright in the flickering firelight.

“Good,” Reva said. “Then it’s settled.”

Silence fell over them once more.

“You find anything on Flamel?” Reva asked finally.

Harry’s eyes glinted. “No,” he said, “But I found something way better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stay safe!


	10. Chapter 10

When Ron woke up the next morning, Harry pulled them both aside and told them all about the secret mirror that showed him his family.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Ron demanded, looking dismayed. “If Reva was already up, we could have gone then!”

Reva and Harry exchanged a look. They had needed to air out the truth about their family first, and neither of them particularly regretted it. They’d both gone to sleep right there in the common room, in front of the fire. Reva had taken the couch Ron wasn’t occupying, and Harry had nabbed one of the armchairs to curl up. The three first years hadn’t roused until Percy Weasley came bustling down with all the subtlety of a baby elephant learning to walk. 

“Well, I am going back tonight, if the two of you want to join me,” Harry said, after the three of them had gotten dressed and met back downstairs. His eyes were gleaming with a strange light, and Reva figured, not unsympathetically, that he must be hungry for another chance to see his parents.

“Of course!” Reva said immediately. 

“Sounds like fun,” Ron added as they made their way down to the Great Hall.

“And you can show us your whole family!” Harry said to Ron. “And Reva, I only saw the English side of mine, you know, my mum’s folks. I’d really love to see—”

“The brown ones?” Reva finished with a grin. “Sure thing. I’ve only ever seen one picture of my mum’s parents and siblings anyway.” At Harry’s downcast expression, she nudged him. “Hey, you’ve still got me and Mum!”

He brightened considerably at that. “I’ve been meaning to ask… do you know how our family got here? I mean, Potter is a British name, isn’t it?” His eyes glowed with longing and interest, and Reva realized with dawning horror that he must have been so isolated, as a brown child living with white relatives who hated him. If his aunt and uncle were the type of Muggles to hate anything unusual, surely they were the type to hate immigrants, too? Her heart ached for her friend, wondering what abuses he was subject to on account of his race.

“It is,” said Ron, but he too looked at Reva for an explanation.

“I’m not a Potter,” she reminded him, brow furrowing. “I mean, I know the general history of Wizarding India, and I know a bit about famous English Purebloods, but you might want to ask my mum for the specifics.”

“I will,” said Harry impatiently, his eyes hungry for information. “But what do you know?”

She took in a deep breath. “Well, Harry, the Potters are an old English Pureblood family, that much is true—but there’s a reason they were labeled blood traitors. You see, in the early 1700s, British Purebloods had already started invading South Asia—”

“I thought that started later!” Harry exclaimed.

“Oh, I suppose it did start later, for the Muggles,” Reva said, brow furrowed in thought. “I’ll ask my mum about it. Or Hermione, she might know. Anyhow, colonial expansion was what separated modern day blood traitor Pureblood families from the likes of, say, the Malfoys, or the Selwyns. If I’m not mistaken, the Potters took an outspoken stance against colonization, as did the Shafiqs, Weasleys, and Abbotts. These, by the way, are the oldest ‘blood traitor’ families.” She winked at Ron, who grinned unabashedly. “The Shafiqs led the anti-colonial movement, and they and the Potters offered help to rebels in South Asia while the Weasleys and Abbotts fought it in the British Ministry.”

“And then what happened?”

Reva frowned. “Well, far as I can tell, many of the Potters met and fell in love with Indian, or perhaps what is now Pakistani, witches and wizards. Each generation thereafter identified more and more with their South Asian roots. Yes, there was certainly some white saviorism involved, and the Potter family wasn’t entirely innocent when it came to the racism of it all; but there you are, that dark history is part of both our roots. At any rate, by the time the British left and Partition happened, the Potters were an entirely brown family.”

“The ‘40s…” Harry frowned. “That would have been around the time my grandparents met, right?”

“Yeah.” Ron answered this time. Both Reva and Harry turned to look at him with surprise. His ears reddened. “Oh, come on, most Wizarding families know that Fleamont Potter was the first Potter to attend Hogwarts in one hundred and fifty years, and he attended school in the ‘30s!”

“I didn’t,” Reva said mildly, but felt thankful for that little tidbit anyway. “That’s the Potters, at any rate, as far as I know. I can ask Mum for more detailed information—or you can, if you want.” She smiled at Harry, just as they entered the Great Hall.

“What about my gran?” He asked suddenly. “That would be your mum’s aunt, yeah?”

Reva beamed, happy to be able to fill him in. “This I do know, actually! Your gran grew up in the South, and she met your granddad when he came home to visit some family. They fell in love and got married, and she went back to England with him. I can tell you more about her side of the family, but I think Mum would certainly be better equipped to inform you there.”

That seemed to be enough for Harry at the moment, because his eyes brightened and he said, “I can’t believe I have _real_ family now, Reva.”

Reva’s heart just about shattered at that; even at eleven, she knew they were young, and she knew it was awful that Harry had been cut off and forced away from his culture.

“Of course you do,” she said gently. “If your dad was the cousin my mum grew up with, he was more like a brother to her. That makes us more than second cousins, you know. I’m glad we’re related, and not just because you’re Harry Potter, but because we’re friends.”

Harry grinned, his eyes lit up with joy and belonging. Reva had to swallow the lump in her throat at just how much an affirmation that she was happy to be his family clearly meant to him. Had he never before felt loved, like people cared about him?

“Anyway,” said Ron, mind seemingly where Reva’s was as they all sat down, “Speaking of siblings, you both can always meet all of mine if you come over to my place this summer.”

“Can’t,” said Reva ruefully, spreading butter over a slice of toast, “I’m grounded because of all the detentions I’ve gotten.”

Ron made a face at her words as he began to bite into some bacon. “The whole summer?”

“Pretty much,” Reva sighed. “Mum wants me to help out on the farm.” Then she grinned. “But that means my punishment isn’t going to change no matter what I do now. Might as well continue sneaking around at night to look for Flamel.”

“That’s the spirit,” Ron chortled. His eyes slid to her left, and the amusement on his face was chased away by confusion. “Harry, are you okay?”

Reva glanced over at her cousin. “Hey,” she said slowly, “Aren’t you going to eat anything?”

Harry was staring into space, his gaze burning a hole into the table. “Hm?” He said. “Oh—I’m alright.”

Reva and Ron exchanged a puzzled, mildly concerned glance.

“Alright, mate,” Ron said. “But you’re acting a bit odd.”

Harry didn’t answer. The glow in his eyes that Reva had spotted as she talked to him about family seemed to become stronger, almost hungrier, and for a brief moment she thought it might consume him.

* * *

That night, Harry, Ron, and Reva huddled under the Cloak. Because Harry didn’t remember where in the castle this mirror was, they made their way to the library first so he could try and retrace his steps. Because they all had to go together so the Cloak didn’t slip off, it took nearly twice as long to get there. Ron was already growing impatient, and Harry snapped at him a couple of times to just be quiet and wait. Privately, Revati agreed with Ron that this was all very unnecessary, and why couldn’t they wait until daylight again? but she didn’t dare contradict an already peevish Harry, especially when he was so emotionally attached in the situation. She understood where he was coming from—she supposed that were she in his shoes, she’d do anything to see her parents, too.

“Are you sure we—” Ron started.

“Shh!” Harry hushed, then his eyes lit up. “Yes, there it is!” He ran to a rather nondescript door and pulled the others through; once they were in, Harry tugged the coat off and went to face a mirror. Reva watched, bemused, as he grinned at it.

“There you are, see?” He asked proudly.

“Mate, all I see is you,” Ron said slowly.

“He’s right, Harry, we can’t see anyone else, it’s just your reflection.” Reva added.

Harry’s expression dimmed for a moment, before his brow cleared. “Well, maybe you have to be in front of it. Come where I’m standing.”

Reva and Ron exchanged a glance, and Reva went up ahead first. She approached the mirror, standing in the exact spot her cousin had been just seconds before. She stared for a moment, brow furrowing as longing raced through her.

“Well?” Harry asked impatiently. “Do you see your family?”

“No,” Reva said, transfixed. “Well, sort of—I see you and my mum and Uncle Moony, but there’s someone else there. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him before in my life.”

“What does he look like?”

“Er—tall,” she said. “And handsome. He’s got dark hair, it’s long and slightly wavy… he’s smiling, too—and so is my mum!” She gaped. Her mother loved her dearly, she knew, and she’d smiled before, obviously, but never like this—never this free, open, unworried grin that took over her entire face. “She looks happy, happier than I’ve ever seen her. We all do. I think—I think she’s stopped working for the Ministry, too! We’re still on the farm, but Mum’s got her Gobbledegook dictionary out. I think she’s finally working in Inter-Species diplomacy like she’s always wanted!”

Revati took in the scene for a second longer. It wasn’t just her mother who looked like she’d been completed; Uncle Moony looked relaxed and calm in a way she’d never seen before, no trace of the usual stress and wear on his face. Harry and she were standing together, joyful, as if they’d grown up together. And the mystery man… who was he?… beamed out at Revati, his grey eyes dancing with joy.

Revati stumbled back, swallowing hard as tears pricked her eyes. Was this what her mum looked like happy? What all her family looked like happy? And if that was the case, was that man, that stranger grinning back at her… was that her dad?

She stared at him in shock. Yes, they had the same jawline, the same aristocratic cheekbones… her hair, while thick like her mothers, curled the way his did, and she saw that smile in her baby pictures, and when she looked in the mirror in the girls’ dorms.

So this _was_ her father.

She stepped back abruptly, unable to take it anymore. Tears stung at her eyes, and the longing she felt at what she’d seen mixed with bitter anger in her chest. 

“You alright?” Ron asked.

“Yeah.” Reva managed, even though _no,_ no she was not. She gestured for the ginger to take her place. 

“Do you see your family, too?” Harry asked Ron. He seemed confused that Reva hadn’t seen generations of family, like he did, but Reva figured the mirror probably showed the viewer something they didn’t know about their family. Harry hadn’t known what they looked like, and Reva didn’t know what they looked like happy.

Pushing that unpleasant thought out of her head, she focused on Ron, who was gaping at his reflection.

“It’s just me!” He exclaimed. “But blimey, I’m Head Boy! And—look at that, Quidditch Captain, too!” 

That immediately took out Reva’s theory about it being family based, then.

Ron swallowed, and his voice took on a hopeful note. “Do you two think… well, maybe this mirror shows the future!”

For a split-second, Reva thought (hoped) that he was right, but Harry shook his head bitterly.

“Can’t be. Most of my family is dead, remember?”

Reva winced.

“Let me have another look,” Harry said impatiently, trying to nudge Ron out of the way.

“But you had it all last night—”

“You’re just holding a stupid cup, I get to see my parents—”

“Shut up, both of you!” Revati hissed suddenly, hearing footsteps outside. Ron, thinking quickly, threw the Invisibility Cloak over all three of their heads, and it was just in time. Mrs. Norris poked her head through the doorway, and the three first years held their breath as she stared through them. Finally, she left, and Harry tugged the cloak off of them.

“We ought to go,” Reva said in a low voice, “That was a close call.”

The boys agreed, Harry more reluctantly than Ron, and the three Gryffindors pulled the cloak back over their heads and trudged all the way back to the Tower. None of them spoke, which honestly was rather difficult, because Revati would do anything for a distraction right about now. Her mind was racing, and she felt quite overwhelmed.

She’d never realized how unhappy her mother and Uncle Moony were until that moment. Well, not unhappy, exactly—just not entirely happy. She’d never seen that open smile on her mother’s face, her eyes lit up with carefree joy, every inch of her just bursting with happiness. Her mother’s smiles, nowadays, were gentle and quiet, full of indulgent love but tinged with a sadness Revati hadn’t recognized until now. And her Uncle Moony—he was always worn out and stressed around the full moon, and she’d always attributed his melancholy to that, but it seemed now that he was missing something else, something more. 

She felt like a _horrible_ daughter. How could she have missed, for the first eleven years of her life, that the two adults in her life who she loved more than anyone else was less than happy? She longed for this future, where her mum got the job she wanted and Uncle Moony had that open grin on his face all the time, and she and Harry spent summers together on the farm, and her father…

Envy and guilt mingled together as she thought about that man, who must be her father. She’d never wanted to meet him before, never wanted to know who he was. She’d sworn she felt nothing more than casual indifference towards him. Why was he here, now, in this future version of her family? Why did her heart race as she saw him? Why did she feel a sort of longing to hear him laugh, or say he was proud of her? She’d always resented him for leaving her mother; was it disrespectful to Anjali to secretly want the chance to know her father? 

Reva’s stomach turned. This was something that she hadn’t known, until this very moment, that she wanted. And now that she’d seen it, she wanted it so, _so_ badly, all of it. She wanted Harry to leave his horrible relatives and live with her and her mother; she wanted Uncle Moony to be happy and feel no guilt or self-hatred for being a werewolf; she wanted her mother to get the job of her dreams and find happiness; and, to her increasing guilt, she wanted desperately to meet her father, even though she knew he’d abandoned her and Anjali both.

Reva swallowed. Was this a betrayal to her mother? How could she ever tell her mum that she wanted to meet her dad? Wouldn’t that make her feel like Reva didn’t want her anymore?

By the time the three silent first years got back to the common room, Reva was certain of only one thing: that mirror was trouble.

Harry went up to the boys’ dorm with barely a word to the other two, but Revati was sure it was less from anger or bitterness and more because of the intense emotions he must have been feeling at the sight of his parents. He seemed distracted, terribly sad but intensely glad to see his parents for the first time. Ron made to follow him up, but Reva grabbed at his shirt sleeve and held him back. Harry didn’t seem to notice, and Reva waited until his footsteps no longer echoed through the common room before she spoke. 

“Ron, I don’t like that mirror.” She shook her head. Ron shifted uncomfortably.

“Me neither,” he confessed. “I did at first, y’know, when I was looking at it, but then I remembered something my dad always says: ‘never trust anything that thinks if you can’t tell where it keeps its brain.’” He shook his head. “That mirror somehow _knew_ things about us, it _knew_ what to show us to keep us staring at it.”

“Why is it at this school?” Wondered Revati. “Surely it’s dangerous?”

Ron snorted. “Why is anything dangerous kept in this school?” He asked rhetorically. “We have Fluffy the three headed dog, whatever it is that Flamel and Dumbledore are hiding, and don’t forget Snape.” He yawned. “I’m going to bed. Hopefully tomorrow we can talk Harry out of going back—I bet it’ll be difficult work, he’s a stubborn bloke. Goodnight, Reva.”

“Goodnight,” Reva replied automatically, but her mind was whirring. Something about Ron’s offhand remark bothered her—yes, the mirror was dangerous like Fluffy and the Gringotts package were (and don’t even get her started on that old bat Snape)—but what were all those things doing at a school for children?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (content warning: mentions of transphobia)
> 
> first of all, i just want to say that i 100% stand with and support the trans community. author or not, rowlings comments were despicable, inappropriate, dangerous, and wildly misinformed, and trans/nonbinary/fluid folx deserve a lot better. 
> 
> it was for that reason that i have wondered about posting more harry potter fanfictions; i cannot and will not support an author who, after writing two cis male characters spending time innocently in a girls bathroom doing nothing wrong, refuses to afford trans/nonbinary/fluid people the same dignity. this woman literally afforded more leeway to her two fictional cis male protagonists than she does to actual living people, and that is unacceptable.
> 
> that being said, i ultimately decided to continue writing for this fandom for a few reasons, some of them personal and others general. i do not want to center myself at ALL, as i am a cis woman, so if you wish to know my reasoning (both personal and general!) please reach out and i will reply honestly! the most important reason, however, i will explain, and that is the following: fanfiction is and has always been a way for us to represent often unseen members of society. i will be using my fanfictions to uplift and highlight protagonists and characters who reflect that representation, because we all should belong in this world, even if people like rowling want to erase certain faces.
> 
> if you are trans, nonbinary, fluid, or anything else that does not fit the gender binary or biological sex propaganda, and you feel like you can no longer read this fic, i absolutely respect that and send you all of my love as we part ways. i do love you. i do respect you.
> 
> i'm aware that some of you might disagree with me entirely, either in my continued writing for the fandom, or in my stance that rowling was wrong. if the former, please reach out to me! so far i haven't spoken to anyone that remains uncomfortable with fanfiction, so long as that fanfic makes an effort to include the voices cut out from the books. however, as i do have cis privilege, i know that my stance might be inherently flawed or destructive to the trans and enby communities; and if that is the case, i will take action.
> 
> if, however, you feel like i'm being too harsh on rowling, that's something that will not change. you may choose to stop reading this story for that reason, and if that is the case, goodbye.
> 
> (cw: ends here)
> 
> hope everyone is staying safe <3


	11. Chapter 11

To Reva’s relief, she and Ron didn’t have to do much convincing. After one more night in front of the mirror, Harry himself decided to let it go. He murmured a quick explanation when the other two asked him about it, but aside from ‘Dumbledore’ and ‘living,’ which didn’t really help either of them understand, he kept pretty much mum on the subject.

The rest of the holidays passed quickly, and soon enough the next term arrived. Hermione, who needed to be caught up on the major developments (namely, Harry and Revati being cousins, and their unsuccessful attempts at finding Nicholas Flamel), had begun investigating with a new vigor. Both she and Harry felt certain that they’d heard of Flamel before, but Ron and Reva (ironically the two who had grown up in the Wizarding world) had no clue. Though the four of them spent hours pouring over books in their free time, it was to no avail—Nicholas Flamel was simply not there.

On top of everything else, Revati was dealing with the sadness she felt over what she’d seen in that mirror. She couldn’t believe her mum and uncle were so unhappy, and that she’d never seen it before. She felt a wave of fierce love for them, and the way they tried to mask it for her sake, and as she’d literally never seen them as happy as they had been in the mirror, she hadn’t realized how sad they both clearly were.

More importantly, she felt crushing guilt over wanting to meet her dad. She’d never thought she wanted that before, always content to say she didn’t need him. But now that she’d seen him in that reflection, she longed for the chance to at least meet him. She hadn’t told a soul about it, not even Hermione, who knew more than the boys how bitterly she’d felt about her father. 

So the weeks passed, and Reva acted as if she was fine, even though her stomach churned with turmoil. Eventually, classes started up again, and she had a load of distractions to keep her mind busy.

It was late January when Harry came back to the common room after Quidditch practice in a foul mood and with fouler news. Ron, who was kicking Hermione’s butt at chess, barely looked up from the game, but Harry paid him no mind as he stormed in, covered head to toe in dirt and grime.

“Snape’s refereeing the next game,” he groaned as he dropped onto the couch next to Revati. She gave him a dirty look as he accidentally splashed mud on her sweater, but it soon faded as she processed his words.

“What?” She gaped. “Can he even do that? Isn’t there a clear conflict of interest?”

“Technically not, as we’re facing Hufflepuff,” said Harry gloomily. 

“But you can always count on that old bat to find a way to be biased,” grumbled George Weasley as he and Fred passed behind the first years to their dorms, presumably to shower.

Hermione looked horrified. “But Harry,” she said in a low, worried voice, “He’ll be trying to hurt you! Don’t play.”

“Tell them you’re sick,” Ron suggested.

“Pretend you’ve got an injury,” Hermione added.

“Actually injure yourself,” Ron told him.

“Here’s a better idea,” Revati joined in, scowling, “Injure Snape.”

Ron nodded vigorously, but Hermione let out a scandalized gasp of “Reva!”

“Can’t do any of that,” Harry said heavily. “There’s no Reserve Seeker.”

The portrait hole opened and Neville hopped in. He’d been hit with a Leg-Locker Curse from Draco Malfoy, and after Hermione performed the counter curse, the four of them spent a bit of time comforting the poor boy.

“Listen, Malfoy’s just a big bully,” Revati said soothingly. “He practically has to buy his friends, doesn’t he? It’s not really as if Crabbe and Goyle stick around him for his winning charm or lovely personality.”

“You’re worth twelve of him, anyway, Neville,” said Ron.

Neville was still flushed with embarrassment, but he didn’t look quite so miserable. “You really think so?” He asked.

“‘Course we do!” Ron said. “I mean, look at you, you’re in Gryffindor! Meanwhile, Malfoy’s literally living in the dungeons.”

“Besides, the reason he picks on you is because—”

“I’m an easy target,” Neville interrupted gloomily. “I know, you don’t have to tell me.”

Reva raised an eyebrow. “I was going to say it’s because he knows you’re far more likeable than him. You don’t have to try to make friends, Neville, people enjoy spending time with you. Malfoy’s just jealous.”

“Yeah?” Neville asked hopefully.

“Yeah.” Chorused Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Reva together.

Harry offered him a Chocolate Frog. Neville accepted the candy gratefully, but tossed the card back to Harry, who glanced down absently at the famous wizard on it.

Revati had only been half paying attention to that particular interaction, trying instead to recall a Pimple Jinx from the book Uncle Moony had sent her for Christmas that she could use on Malfoy, but she looked up when Harry gave a little cry of, “I found Flamel!”

“What?” Revati asked.

“It says here that Dumbledore worked on alchemy with Nicholas Flamel,” Harry explained excitedly. “I knew I’d read his name before—it was on the train ride here, remember, Ron?”

“Oh, yeah!” Ron exclaimed, eyes widening. “Dumbledore was the first Chocolate Frog card you opened! Flamel’s an alchemist, then, huh?”

“Oh, of course!” Hermione shrieked. Without another word, she got up and raced to their dorms, coming back down with a giant book Reva recognized from her bedside table. Hermione had checked it out in early November or so, along with _Quidditch Through The Ages_ (which she gave to Harry). 

“Hermione—”

“Hush!” Hermione shushed Ron, who looked quite disgruntled. She began flipping through the pages, muttering to herself, before finally letting out a triumphant “Aha!” as she stopped at one section in particular.

“Look,” she said, jabbing a finger at the page. “It says here that Nicholas Flamel is the only known creator of the Philosopher’s Stone!”

Reva’s brow furrowed. She’d heard of the Philosopher’s Stone before, but only in old fairy tales. “Isn’t that… a legend? You mean to say that it actually exists?”

“Of course it does!” Hermione said, scandalized. “Mind you, there are only a few mentions of it here and there, as I suppose the Ministry and Alchemist Association of Great Britain would like to keep it as quiet as possible, but it’s not exactly a secret—just well hidden.”

“Hang on, back up a bit: what is a Philosopher’s Stone?” Ron asked. Harry looked similarly confused.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Honestly, don’t the two of you ever read?” She turned the book around and shoved it towards them. Harry and Ron bent their heads over it, reading silently. 

“So that’s what Snape’s after!” Harry said. 

“Well, who wouldn’t want something like that?” Ron pointed out reasonably. “Turns metal to gold? Bet something like that comes in handy.”

“Not to mention an Elixir of Life,” Reva added grimly.

The Philosopher’s Stone was all any of them could talk about until the end of the week, when Harry told the three of them in low tones that he was going to play in the match, anyway. “I haven’t really got a choice,” he said. “Like I said, there isn’t a Reserve Seeker, and if we win against Hufflepuff it’ll put us in the finals against Slytherin.”

Revati rolled her eyes. “You know your life is more important than Quidditch, right?”

Harry gave her a look. “I thought you’d be all about standing up to Snape,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Or did I just imagine it when you lost twenty points yesterday for telling him he was bullying Neville?”

Ron snorted. “He’s got you there, Reva,” he said.

Hermione, though, was on the same page as Revati. “Are you sure you want to play, Harry?” she asked.

“Yeah,” said Harry determinedly. “Yeah, I do.”

“I only wish there was something we could do to help keep Snape off your back,” Ron mused.

That was when Revati had her first brilliant idea.

She waited until Harry left for practice the next evening before bringing it up with Ron and Hermione.

“We should practice hexes to use on Snape in case he tries to hurt Harry again,” she said with no preamble as soon as the portrait hole swung shut behind her cousin.

Hermione bit her lip, but Ron’s eyes lit up.

“Brilliant idea!” He said. “Bonus points if we can use them on Malfoy.”

“Really, Ron,” Hermione chastised, but she nodded at the two of them. “I suppose it would be good to know a few jinxes, particularly if Snape really is refereeing.”

“Excellent,” Revati grinned. “Then I suppose we’d better get practicing.”

* * *

By the weekend of the match, Reva, Hermione, and Ron were experts at the Leg-Locker Jinx, the same one Malfoy had used on Neville, and the Pimple Jinx, which, when used, caused a number of rather painful boils to erupt on the victim’s face. 

(They’d also realized that they needed to know the counter-curses, which they learned the hard way when Ron’s chin erupted with a series of large pustules that he couldn’t touch without wincing.)

But the three of them had mastered the jinxes and their counter spells, and on the Saturday morning of the match, they marched to the Gryffindor stands with identical looks of determination plastered on their faces, all three tightly clutching their wands.

“Remember, it’s Locomotor Mortis,” Hermione reminded Revati and Ron for the millionth time. 

“We know,” Reva said tightly. 

“Stop nagging,” Ron added, frowning. “Bit rich coming from you, isn’t it? You weren’t too keen on hexing Snape earlier this week.”

“Well—” Hermione started to protest, but Reva cut in, narrowing her eyes.

“He looks awfully angry, doesn’t he?” She said, gesturing to Snape in the Quidditch pitch down below as the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams made their way out of the locker rooms. “I mean, I’ve never seen him so…” She searched for the word.

“Snarly?” Ron offered.

“Sure,” Revati agreed.

Hermione leaned forward as the whistle blew. “Oh, they’re off!” She gasped.

“Hey!” Ron yelped as something cuffed him around the head.

Revati looked up to see Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle standing behind them, all three smirking cruelly as they watched the match before them.

“Sorry, Weasley,” Drawled Malfoy, “I didn’t see you.”

“Get lost, Malfoy,” Revati snapped. She looked back down at the game—Alicia had scored ten points, and the Quaffle was in Hufflepuff possession. As she watched, Ron’s brother George hit a Bludger at Snape, who called for a penalty.

“I was under the impression that it was a free country, Kumar,” said Malfoy.

“Bit ironic coming from you, isn’t it? We both know that if your folks had anything to say about it, the country would be under a fascist regime trying to commit a genocide against Muggles,” Reva hissed.

Hermione flinched, and Ron looked over at her sharply, eyebrows raised appraisingly. Neville Longbottom, who was sitting next to Dean and Seamus in the row in front of them, whirled around to face Reva with wide eyes.

Malfoy was silent behind her for about ten seconds, and when he spoke again, his voice was low and extremely ugly.

“I’d watch it if I were you, Kumar. After all, my family is yours, too.”

“What are you babbling about, Malfoy?” Reva asked impatiently. “As if I could ever be cursed with a blood relation to you.”

“Is that so?” Malfoy sneered. “Well, then, it might interest you to know that you are just as closely related to me as you are to poor, parentless Potter, there.” 

“Yeah, right,” Reva scoffed. 

“I’m not lying, Kumar,” said Malfoy softly. Reva turned around to glare at him and met his eyes. They were glinting malevolently, and though Revati knew he was capable of lying about anything, she got the impression that right then, he was being entirely truthful. “Two of our parents are first cousins, you know.”

Reva’s blood froze. She risked a glance at Ron, who was gaping at her, seemingly just as shocked as she felt. In front of her, Neville’s face paled.

 _Related to Malfoy?_ She knew she couldn’t be related on her mother’s side, for obvious physical reasons; so that had to mean that her father was… what, a Malfoy? Or from whatever family Draco’s mum was born in? She shuddered at the thought. _No,_ she told herself firmly. _Malfoy’s just trying to get to you. Don’t let him. Put it out of your head._ She did her best, but she couldn’t deny that she’d been put slightly off balance from his words.

Malfoy spoke again, having regained his confidence in shaking Reva up so much. “You know, I think I’m onto something, here. The Gryffindor team lets people in who they feel sorry for! I mean, there’s Potter, whose got no parents, and your brothers, Weasley, who have no money… quite frankly, Longbottom, it’s shocking you’re not on the pitch right now, seeing as you’ve got no brains.”

Neville swallowed tightly. “I-I’m worth twelve of you, Malfoy.” He said, his voice steady despite the mildly terrified expression on his face.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle broke out into peels of cruel laughter. “Oh, Longbottom,” Malfoy sighed with mirth, “You truly are the most stupid person in our year. Really, if brains were galleons, you’d be poorer than Weasley—and trust me, that’s quite the feat.”

In between Reva and Hermione, Ron stiffened. “One more word, Malfoy, and you’ll regret it—”

“Ron, Reva, pay attention!” Hermione gasped suddenly. She pointed out to the field, where Harry had suddenly gone into a nosedive. “I think he’s seen it!”

“Seen what, the gold?” Malfoy sneered. “Well, Weasley, maybe he’ll share it with you… or even you, Kumar, seeing as you’re his family. Merlin knows nobody else related to you would bail you out.”

“That’s it!” Reva said, standing up suddenly and tackling Malfoy to the ground, winding him so hard he gasped for air. In a flash, Ron was beside her, sinking his fist straight into Malfoy’s cheek. Behind them, Crabbe and Goyle advanced, but suddenly Neville was there, joining the brawl. 

Reva quickly got off of Malfoy and threw her fist into Goyle’s gut. She kicked his shins and kneed his stomach, yelling unintelligibly all the while. She felt… exhilarated. There was nothing better, she decided, than hitting someone who deserved it, especially a racist, neo-fascist idiot like Gregory Goyle.

Goyle yelled and stumbled back; in an instant, he regained his bearings and struck Reva across the face. Her head whipped back with the force of the blow, but recovering herself, she threw her head forward, slamming it hard into his nose and jaw. There was a crack, and Goyle let out a yell of pain, blood streaming from his nose.

Ron was still rolling around with Malfoy, both boys trying to land hits on each other. Neville was doing his best to hold his own against Crabbe, who was about twice the size of him. Reva continued trading blows with Goyle, who clearly had no scruples about backhanding a girl in the face repeatedly. (Of course, seeing as Reva had thrown the first punch, and the fourth and fifth, she was capable of giving as good as she got). Around them, very few Gryffindors had actually noticed the brawl that had broken out; all of them suddenly surged to their feet, yelling with excitement at whatever was going on in the match. And then— 

“Ron, Reva, Neville!” Hermione shrieked. “Harry’s done it, he’s won the match!”

That was enough to pull Revati out of her rage-fuelled violent daze; blinking with amazement and delight, she turned to look up at Hermione. Goyle seized the opportunity to throw a fist into her ribs, and she yelped, turning back down and kicking him as hard as she could in the stomach. His nose was really bloody now, and it seemed a bit crooked—she’d broken it. She scrambled to her feet before he could catch his breath. Then, purposefully stepping on his fingers as she pulled herself back onto the bench, she threw herself at Hermione in a tight, aggressive hug.

“We won! We won!” She screamed. “Ron, did you hear that! We won!”

She and Ron were still chanting ‘We won! We won!’ two hours later in the Common Room, greeting the entire Quidditch team with enthusiastic cries and whoops along with half of Gryffindor when they filed in after showering (and, in the Weasley twins’ case, sneaking sweets from the kitchens).

Oliver Wood seemed beside himself with joy, and beamed in utter delight as a couple of sixth years hoisted him onto their shoulders. Katie, Angelina, and Alicia mingled with the crowd, passing out a bunch of tarts that the twins had nicked. The Chasers were soon surrounded by overjoyed Gryffindors, who swarmed them to congratulate their goals. The twins slunk in behind them, carrying trays of snacks and desserts between them.

“Great job, you two!” Reva shouted at Fred and George over the ruckus. “Hitting the Bludger at Snape, George—that was inspired!”

“So was hitting that little creep Goyle in the face,” said George, laughing. He and Fred pushed their way through the crowd to stand by them. “We looked over at the Gryffindor stands and saw the two of you and Neville Longbottom just walloping those Slytherins.”

“Never been prouder to call you my brother,” added Fred, thumping Ron on the back. Ron’s ears went red, and he grinned.

“Didn’t even get detention,” Ron crowed. “And I gave Malfoy a black eye!”

“Goyle got me in the face,” Reva said ruefully, poking gingerly at the angry bruise sprouting over her cheek. “But I think I broke his nose, so I’m not too miffed.”

All four of them laughed.

“I still can’t believe the two of you were Muggle fighting instead of watching the match!” Hermione moaned, shaking her head in resignation. “It was such a spectacular catch, too!”

“I still can’t believe you didn’t notice the fist fight happening behind you!” Chortled Ron. 

“Fist fight? What fist fight?” Came a new voice. Revati whirled around to see Harry standing there. For someone who’d just showered, he seemed rather sweaty. His hair was messier than usual, and—was that a twig caught in it?

“You should have seen it, Harry, it was amazing—Neville’s in the Hospital Wing, but he should be fine, and I think he winded Crabbe! And Reva—”

“Where have you been, Harry?” Hermione interrupted Ron. Fred and George, having lost interest, wandered off towards Lee Jordan. Harry swallowed, and Reva felt a pit form in her stomach. Her cousin looked less happy than she would have expected, considering he’d just put Gryffindor in the lead for the Quidditch Cup.

Harry’s eyes darted around, and he grabbed Ron and Hermione’s wrists, dragging them towards the portrait hole and telling Revati to follow. 

“What’s going on?” Asked Hermione nervously as Harry tugged the three of them into the nearest empty classroom.

Harry took a deep breath. “I followed Snape after the match on my Nimbus. He met with Quirrell in the Forbidden Forest, and he asked if Quirrell knew how to get past Fluffy—”

“Did he?” Reva asked immediately, eyes wide as her stomach churned.

“I don’t think so,” Harry murmured, “But that’s not all. Snape asked him about his own enchantment. I think Quirrell is one of the professors protecting the Stone.”

“And Snape’s asking him how to get past his obstacle,” Hermione realized. “Which means—”

“Snape’s after the Philosopher’s Stone,” Harry said.

“And Quirrell is the only one left standing to protect it,” Reva whispered.

Ron groaned. “It’ll be gone within the week.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> malfoy, that little fucker.
> 
> reva's good at avoidance, but rest assured, malfoy's comment about being related is going to bug the hell out of her. she is gonna be desperate to disprove that... but unfortunately, she won't be able to.
> 
> i couldn't decide, initially, whether reva knew who her dad was before coming to hogwarts or whether she found out during third year. ultimately i decided on neither, because i have ~plans~ for reva when she finds out.
> 
> hope everyone is doing well! stay safe <3 thinking of you all always!


	12. Chapter 12

Reva sat down in front of Fred and George Weasley during breakfast one Wednesday and got straight to the point. “I need a favor.”

She’d been thinking about this for a few days already—Malfoy’s taunts about being related to her hadn’t gone unnoticed, and she’d decided, late that night as she tossed and turned restlessly in bed, that she had to figure out just what he meant. She couldn’t deny the tiny thrill that had passed through her at the idea of placing a name to the face she’d seen in the mirror. Best of all, this way she could get her answers without hurting her mother’s feelings. If she could just work out for herself who her connection to Malfoy was, she could figure out this entire half of her heritage without bringing up anything Anjali didn’t want to talk about. 

So the day after the match, a Sunday morning, she’d gone to the library and searched through the racks for a book that Hermione had mentioned offhandedly some two months before that Reva rather thought might help her out. Of course, Hermione had confessed that she’d only gotten through the first three volumes before she felt too uncomfortable with the obvious importance placed on blood purity to continue. She’d lamented to Revati that it was one of the only anthologies that she couldn’t finish, though she insisted that she’d try again later, because according to Hermione, knowledge was the best weapon she could arm herself with. Reva herself had never imagined that she’d be seeking out an encyclopedia on ancient wizarding families, but here she was. Magical Ancestry, Heritage, and Bloodlines in Great Britain, Volumes XIII and XIV (1876 - 1925 and 1926 - 1975) was thankfully not in the Restricted Section, and Revati had brought them over to a secluded table in the corner of the library and began searching.

She had known that Malfoy’s father’s name was Lucius, because her mother grumbled about him every so often—it seemed that he was very influential in the Ministry, and a nasty piece of work to boot. According to Volume XIV, he’d been born in 1953, to Abraxas Malfoy and Vesta Malfoy (nee Travers). Abraxas Malfoy was thankfully an only child, which meant that any first cousins Lucius had were on his mother’s side. If Draco Malfoy was to be believed, and much as she hated to admit it, Reva rather thought he was on this issue at least, her father was the first cousin of either Lucius or his wife. After all, if the connection was any more distant, she wouldn’t be just as closely related to Malfoy as Harry, whose father was Anjali’s first cousin. 

Volume XIII had revealed to Revati that Vesta Malfoy had three older siblings. Her eldest sister, who was twenty-three years older than her, had married a man named Prometheus Crouch, and their son Bartemius was already out of Hogwarts when his cousin Lucius was born. Revati bit her lip. According to the book, Bartemius Crouch was married before Anjali was even born, and his son (named after his father) was just two years younger than Revati’s mother. Still, she pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill, dipped it in ink, and wrote an inch below the top, Bartemius Crouch, Sr, listing his birth year next to it. She’d sort out the impossibilities later—for now, she just had to make the list.

Vesta Malfoy’s elder brother, Asterius Travers, had two daughters and a son. Though it was possible in the magical world for both of Reva’s biological parents to be women, she knew that she, specifically, had a father. Her mother had never been prejudiced against queer people, and would never hide her sexuality from Revati out of shame. Anjali had said plenty of times that Reva had a biological father and not two biological mothers, so she disregarded the two Travers women and instead wrote down Adalbert Travers and his birth year underneath Bartemius Crouch, Sr.

Vesta’s last sibling had married into the Selwyn family, and both Wilfrid and Osmund Selwyn were added to Revati’s list.

Reva had nearly sighed in relief, before she remembered that Draco Malfoy’s mother likely had first cousins as well. Groaning, she’d flipped through the pages of XIV—this volume was published in 1975, when her mother would have been fifteen and Lucius Malfoy perhaps twenty or twenty-one. There was a good chance he wasn’t married by then.

“Oh,” she murmured to herself, staring at the book in wonder. Right before her eyes, printed in dark black ink, were the words, Lucius Malfoy has been betrothed to Narcissa Black since 1956, the year after her birth. Surely he would have gone through with the marriage? Those old Pureblood families were so focused on purity that Revati was rather certain they wouldn’t break a betrothment. It was a pretty safe bet that Narcissa Black had married Lucius Malfoy, and that it was her son who was doing his best to ruin Hogwarts for all the first years.

Narcissa Black was the daughter of Cygnus Black III and Drusella Black (nee Rosier). That meant that the sons of Orion Black, Cygnus’s younger brother, were added to the list. Revati felt a chill as she wrote down Sirius Black and Regulus Black. Sirius Black was one of the most notorious dark wizards of the 21st century, and his younger brother Regulus had been known for being the youngest ever wizard to join You-Know-Who’s ranks. 

Cygnus and Orion had a sister as well, Arethusa, who married into the Rowle family. She and her husband, Berthold Rowle, had a daughter and two sons. Both Joseph and Malcolm made it onto Revati’s list. 

With the Black siblings covered, she turned her attention to Narcissa’s mother. Drusella’s brother, William Rosier, had three sons, Evan, Felix, and Martin. Each one of them could be her father, though Martin Rosier must have only been seventeen when Reva was born. 

Finally, Drusella’s younger sister Priscilla had married a man named Penthus Burke. They’d had two sons, but the eldest had died in childbirth. Deimos Burke, however, had survived at least through 1975, so he too was added to Revati’s list.

It took her the better part of three hours, but finally Reva had emerged from the library with a triumphant gleam in her eye, her list of names clutched tightly in her fist. She hadn’t bothered checking out the books, choosing instead to just put them back once she was done. The process had been long and arduous, seeing as she’d had to flip back and forth between the two volumes to find Malfoy’s grandparents, track their siblings, and then find those siblings’ children. After she had finished, she decided that she never wanted to lay her eyes on those infernal (but conveniently thorough) books again. 

She had spent the next few weeks looking through the names on her list: Bartemius Crouch, Sr; Adalbert Travers; Wilfrid Selwyn; Osmund Selwyn; Sirius Black; Regulus Black; Joseph Rowle; Malcolm Rowle; Evan Rosier; Felix Rosier; Martin Rosier; Deimos Burke. As it turned out, Felix Rosier had died in 1977, at the age of twenty-one, so she was able to cross his name off. There was no possible way he’d fathered her when he’d already been six feet under for nearly three years.

But as for the rest of them, she’d had no way to figure out who belonged on the list and who ought to be crossed out. Bartemius Crouch, for example, had been in the Ministry for ages—but he’d also been married long before he could have possibly met Reva’s mum. Reva was quite confident that her mother hadn’t had any relations with someone who’d had a family already, but she also knew that her mother didn’t know much about Reva’s dad, except his name and some other very basic information. They’d been casually dating, and it hadn’t been anything serious, so Crouch (or any other married person on the list) might not have told Anjali about his family, and would also have run for the hills when Anjali told them she was pregnant. So Reva was back to square one—as far as she knew, any of the remaining eleven men could be her father. 

But that was when she remembered something important.

Her mother was no older than twenty when she met this man—Revati had been born two months after her twenty first birthday. That meant that whoever her father was, he’d either gone to school with Anjali or he was working in the Ministry in 1979. She’d managed to fall asleep with just one thought lingering in her mind: she needed to break into the Hogwarts student records.

All of this brought her to the present moment: she was in front of Fred and George Weasley at a quarter to eight in the morning on a Wednesday, just fifteen minutes before they had to be in their History of Magic class, and forgoing a greeting in order to ask for their help.

“Ooh, ickle firstie needs a favor,” said Fred, raising his eyebrows and smirking.

“Good morning to you, too, Kumar,” George said pointedly. 

“Sorry,” Reva winced, wringing her hands nervously. “That was rude of me, wasn’t it?”

“Ah, don’t worry about it, we’re just having you on,” Fred said, waving a hand dismissively. 

“Bit odd to see you without your posse, though,” George added, taking a bite out of his bacon. “Had a row?”

“No, nothing like that—and they’re not my posse, it’s more like we’re Harry’s posse,” Reva said. She took a deep breath and leaned forward to address them in a lower voice. “I… er, I kind of need to break into the old school records, if it’s at all possible,” she said. “And I figured if anyone knew how to do it, the two of you would.”

Fred and George shared an intrigued glance. 

“Why’re you so interested, then?” Asked Fred curiously.

“Can you do it or not?” Revati swallowed.

George waved an impassive hand. “Course we can,” he said. “The question is, what’s in it for us?”

Revati raised her eyebrows. “What, corrupting an innocent first year to break school rules isn’t enough for you?”

Fred snorted. “Please. By this point, Snape’s taken more points off you than he has from the rest of the house combined.”

“I still haven’t broken any real rules,” Reva pointed out. “Arguing with a professor isn’t forbidden, just ill-advised.”

George grinned at her. “Well, it seems that you’re more trouble than you think you are,” he said. “Regardless, I think we might need something else before we can be convinced to help you out.”

“Answers, perhaps?” Fred cajoled. 

“Depends on the question,” Reva replied coolly.

“How about we start with why you need the old records to begin with,” George said.

Reva’s jaw worked as she stared at the two grinning, freckled faces before her. They had her right where they wanted her, and they knew it. She was desperate enough for help and information that their cost didn’t matter—whatever it was, all three of them knew she’d pay it. But… it felt weird to tell Ron’s older brothers, who she didn’t even know extremely well, before she had the chance to talk to her mum or her best friends.

“I’ll give you half the truth,” she bargained. “And if I figure out what I’m trying to solely because of your help, I’ll reveal the rest of it.”

Fred and George turned away from her then and put their heads together. They whispered a bit, their voices too quiet for Reva to properly eavesdrop. Finally, they turned back to her.

“You have a deal,” they said together, reaching their hands out across the table. Blinking, Reva took each of their palms in one of her own and shook them firmly. She released their hands and then turned back to her breakfast and started buttering her toast.

“Well, we’d best be off,” said Fred, checking his watch. “Don’t want to be late for old Binns, do we?”

Revati fixed them with a perplexed stare. “Since when do you two care about being late to class, especially Binns? I’d have thought the two of you would skive off the old ghost’s lectures entirely!”

“Oh, we do,” George assured her. “Normally.”

“But today’s class is going to be something very special,” Fred smirked.

Revati’s eyes flicked between the two third years, who were sharing a mischievous grin. Slowly, a small smile broke out on her own face. “What exactly do you two have planned?”

“Can’t tell you,” Fred said at once.

“But I’m sure you’ll hear about it around lunchtime,” added George, winking.

Revati laughed.

“Meet us after classes on Friday, yeah?” Fred said, getting to his feet. “We can come up with a plan to break you into Filch’s office then.”

“And you can tell us all about this big mystery you’re solving,” George added, before he and Fred began walking out of the Great Hall. “Hey, Ron,” she heard him greet his younger brother; seconds later, Ron, Hermione, and Harry took their vacated spots.

“You’re up early,” Hermione noticed, cocking her head to the side.

“I was hungry,” Reva replied, indicating her eggs, fruit, and toast.

Ron tutted as he piled bacon on his plate. “Course you were, you barely ate at dinner last night,” he pointed out. “This is why you pack snacks, Reva, in case you’re hungry later.”

“Thanks, Mum, I’ll keep that in mind,” Reva laughed. Hermione and Harry snickered too. Ron’s ears pinkened as he protested, but Reva could see him hiding his own smile.

The four students threw themselves into their breakfast with gusto, all laughs and jokes and teases; any thought of the Philosopher’s Stone, or Snape’s agenda, or looming exams, or even family ties, were temporarily pushed out of their heads.

And out of their heads they remained, as later that day they discovered that Hagrid was harboring an illegal dragon's egg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter this time! honestly the rest of the first book is gonna be kind of dull, but the summer will be fun!!! reva's gonna put the pieces together and the sirius revelation will be a doozy.
> 
> i love mother hen ron, ron is the bestest and i adore him, even if he is a straight white boy. he's alright
> 
> it didn't feel right for reva to just figure out "oh hey, my dad is one of malfoy's parents' first cousins? gotta be sirius black!" so there's a lot of unnecessary info about the other potentials, sorry. also, i thought it would be super funny for reva to be like "holy shit my dad might be barty crouch senior!" because like. of course it's not crouch lol, it's obviously sirius. 
> 
> anyway, hope everyone is well and safe. thinking of you all always as i continue to social distance and wear a mask :) my favorite one is bright red with white stripes, but i'm hoping to get more fun patterns when i'm going back to campus (my school is having us self isolate on location, so i'm going to be living in a mask for a few months straight). not ideal to be going back but. i'm essentially going to be a hermit and never exit my room. it's gonna be a time. 
> 
> stay safe! love you all!


	13. Chapter 13

"Hagrid, this is madness!" Cried Revati as she paced about his hut. Ron and Harry were sitting at the little dining table, rock cakes forgotten, as Hermione sat in Hagrid's giant armchair, Fang slobbering all over her knee. All three of them were staring at the big black dragon egg sitting over Hagrid's fire with varying degrees of shock and disbelief written across their faces.

"It's not," Hagrid replied defensively. "Besides, yer not exactly in a position ter judge me, are yeh? Yer mum once saved half the fores' by befriendin' the Peruvian Vipertooth set ter keep watch over the trapped creatures!"

"I—what?" Asked Reva, momentarily distracted. "That doesn't even make sense, what was a Vipertooth doing out of South America? And how do you even befriend one, Vipertooths love human flesh, don't they?" She shook her head to clear it. "You know what—that doesn't matter. Hagrid, are you going to keep it as a _pet_?"

"Why not?" Asked Hagrid gruffly. "Always wanted a dragon."

"Hagrid," said Hermione very plainly and very slowly. "Your house is _made of wood._ "

"Where'd you even get it?" Asked Ron.

"Won it," said Hagrid, looking pleased with himself. "Played a game o' cards for it. Bin studyin' all day today, figurin' out how to care for a baby Ridgeback."

"A Ridge—not a Norwegian Ridgeback?" Said Ron, looking taken aback. "But they're extremely rare, aren't they?"

If possible, Hagrid looked even more happy with himself. "Righ' yeh are, Ron." He grabbed a pair of oven mitts, and, humming to himself, quickly but gently turned the egg on its side so it could be evenly warmed.

Their trip to Hagrid's was stress inducing in more than one way, unfortunately—it turned out that Snape was one of the teachers protecting the Philosopher's Stone, which meant that he probably had an easier time figuring out what the other enchantments on it were. Somehow, Quirrell was still holding strong, but Revati got the feeling that wouldn't exactly last very long.

He looked more drained during their Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, like something major was stressing him out. Students would often see him pacing about the hallways, murmuring things to himself and jumping at the slightest noise. His turban was smellier than ever, presumably to ward off any possible creature that might want to eat him. Months ago, Revati would have wondered what he thought could happen inside Hogwarts, but she knew better now; between Fluffy, and Hagrid's new secret pet dragon, let alone Snape's threats, Quirrell had very good reason to be worried.

Indeed, the only person who looked more anxious than the Defense professor on a regular basis was Hermione.

"We really ought to be studying all the time now!" She lamented in the common room one day, looking frazzled. "Here, Reva—ask me about the Werewolf Code of Conduct."

"We've been over it three times already!" Reva protested. "Hermione, you know it practically by heart."

"I still don't have it down as precisely as you," Hermione argued. "Come on Reva—I won't risk failing because I can't remember the year it occurred!"

Revati only knew so much about the Werewolf Code of Conduct because of her Uncle Moony. It was an oppressive piece of legislature that would have forced werewolves to register themselves before agreeing to lock themselves up in chains during the full moon. Nobody signed it.

"It was 1637," Revati sighed. "And you couldn't possibly fail as badly as the Werewolf Code itself did, don't worry."

Ron and Harry snickered, but Hermione let out a huff and turned back to her books. Reva felt a little bad for teasing her.

"Look, you're the smartest person in our year. It's more likely that—oh, I dunno—Snape started handing out candies after class, than it is that you fail. But even if you do—that is to say, even if Snape offers us chocolates with a smile and says, 'Have an absolutely smashing day, my dear students!' as he waves us off like a mum at King's Cross on September first—there's no way McGonagall or anyone else would force you to repeat the year, much less expel you." Reva said.

Even Hermione cracked a smile at that, but it was ultimately short lived. The next morning Hagrid sent a note at breakfast telling the four first years that the egg was hatching, and Hermione refused point-blank to skip class to watch it happen.

"Come on, Hermione," Ron begged all through Herbology, his voice low. "You can water a flowering shrub any old time—but when are you ever going to see a dragon hatch again?"

"We ought to check on Hagrid anyway," Reva added in a quiet murmur. "We really should try to convince him to send the dragon to a conservatory, he'll get into loads of trouble if he's caught."

Hermione didn't look convinced.

"And it's my birthday," Reva reminded her. "You didn't get me a present."

Hermione sent her an irritated glance as Harry and Ron snickered. "Well, that's not my fault, is it?" She snapped. "You didn't tell me!"

In fact, none of her friends had known it was her birthday—she hadn't really ever mentioned it before, since she'd never had a reason to, and they'd only found out that morning when Elvie, her mother's owl, dropped her a pack of homemade cauldron cakes which she promised to share with them later. All three of them scolded her thoroughly, but they relented when Reva had said in her most injured voice that she'd _meant_ to tell them.

"Still," Reva said, knowing full well that she was crossing the line from petulance to whinging, "You could make it up to me by skiving off Binns' class!"

"Oh—alright," Hermione sighed finally. Reva turned her head and grinned at the boys, who grinned right back. After Herbology ended, the four friends jogged down to Hagrid's house, just in time to see the egg crackle and one long, bony wing to stretch out.

"I can't believe this is happening," Reva whispered. She didn't know whether to feel excited or nervous, so an intricate knot of both swirled chaotically in her stomach. In the next second, the egg crackled away entirely, and they were left looking at a small, black, baby dragon.

"Isn't he precious?" Hagrid cooed. "Think I'll call yeh Norbert." The dragon turned to him and made a little rumbling noise as smoke came out of the corner of its mouth. "Oh, bless him! He knows his mummy!"

"He's lost it," Ron whispered to Harry, but he was loud enough that the girls could hear him, too. Hagrid, who hadn't been paying attention, looked up and began asking Ron to repeat himself, but his eyes darted to the window and he stopped short, face paling to a horrifying grey.

"Who's that?" He croaked, pointing outside. "There's a studen' outside—I think he's seen Norbert!"

All four first years whipped their heads around to see the back of a very blonde, very gelled head as the student raced back up to the castle. Even from here, Reva could make out the green-and-silver detailing on his school robes.

It was Draco Malfoy.

* * *

The next week was very stressful indeed for Reva and her friends. Between keeping an eye on Quirrell in case he finally cracked under the pressure of Snape's intimidation and the looming threat of Draco Malfoy telling a teacher that Hagrid had an illegal dragon stowed away in his cabin, the four first years were spread quite thin. That was, of course, ignoring the added stress of their classes, which had grown far more vigorous; exams weren't until the first week of June, but it was now mid-March and many professors still had loads of material they wanted to cram in before beginning the review period. Every spare moment they had free, they ran down to Hagrid's hut to beg him to give the dragon up, but their friend was too attached and had so far refused point-blank.

"If that studen' were teh tell a teacher, they would'a done it by now," he had said unconcernedly the last time Harry had asked.

"He's being an idiot about it, really," Ron groaned one day during lunch. The four of them had just come out of Charms, and they were planning on going back down to Hagrid's after their afternoon block of Defense. "I mean, if the Ministry finds out…" He shook his head. "Well, he'd have a tough time getting out of that one."

But Reva stared at him for a moment, her heart pounding fast. Her mother worked for the Ministry—in the Department of Magical Creatures. True, it was technically for _the Regulation and Control_ of Magical Creatures, but Anjali Kumar had always prioritized their safety and dignity. Perhaps her mother could help out…

And just as soon as that thought entered her head, it left. Her mother couldn't be caught smuggling an illegal dragon anywhere; she'd be fired in an instant.

Harry seemed to be having the same series of thoughts. He turned to look at Reva sharply.

"Your mum told me in her last letter that she's worked for the Department of Magical Creatures for thirteen years now," he said. "Is there anything she can do?"

"I dunno," Reva sighed. "She can't be in possession of one, that's for sure, but that's not the main point. We need to find out exactly how much trouble Hagrid will be in if he's caught, because he isn't listening when we say it's a lot—Godric, I wish I'd listened when Mum talked about the procedure she had to follow!"

Reva was usually very interested in what her mother was saying, but the ridiculous bureaucratic machinery of Ministry procedure had bored her almost to the point of tears. That information hadn't stayed in Reva's head one bit.

"Well," said Hermione practically, "Is there anyone you _could_ ask?"

Reva stared hard at her friend, thinking. In the background, behind Hermione's left ear, she saw movement over at the Hufflepuff table. A bunch of third year boys were laughing merrily as they ate their lunch. With a nearly electric jolt, the answer hit her.

"As a matter of fact, Hermione," Reva said, grinning brightly, "There is."

Ignoring the questioning glances her friends sent her, Revati got to her feet and hurried over to the Hufflepuff table, where the group of third year boys had started eating.

"Hello, Cedric!" She greeted brightly. One of the boys, a rather good looking fourteen year old, looked up in mild surprise.

"Oh—" Cedric said, smiling kindly at Revati. "Hello, Reva." He turned to his friends quickly. "This is Revati Kumar, boys. Her mum works with my dad at the Ministry."

It was true—Amos Diggory was a member of the same Department as Reva's mother. Reva knew her mum wasn't especially close with Mr. Diggory, though they had been on the same damage control team for six or seven years now, but Cedric had always been very nice. They'd seen each other at all the Department holiday parties since they were young children, and when Anjali and Amos were travelling for work and it coincided with the full moon, during which Reva's Uncle Remus couldn't look after her, she'd spend the week at the Diggory's with Cedric and his mum.

They'd come to an unspoken agreement, once Cedric started at Hogwarts two and a half years ago, that they'd leave each other alone during the school times, but would remain friends on breaks. This wasn't due to any sort of embarrassment or animosity between them, but instead because they were very different individuals, who might not have even been friends were they not the two youngest people attending all those various Department social events.

Cedric's brows furrowed together, likely wondering why Reva had approached him so suddenly when she hadn't spoken with him all year. "Er, is there something you wanted?"

"Actually, yes," Reva hedged, glancing around at his friends, who were all looking at her curiously. "Do you mind having a word with me about something?"

His friends all laughed, and one of them wiggled his eyebrows. Reva frowned at them as she felt her face warm. Not like _that,_ for goodness sakes! Couldn't a girl talk to a boy without it being misinterpreted?

Cedric rolled his eyes at his friends, then nodded at Reva. He got to his feet quite gracefully, before following Reva to a corner of the Great Hall. From this angle, she could see her friends looking at her in confusion.

"What's up, then?" He asked, smiling. "How's your first year been? I heard you're giving Snape a rough enough time."

"Oh—" Reva said, blinking. "Well, he's bringing it onto himself. He's _awful_ to Harry and Neville, really a terrible bully."

Cedric nodded. "Yes, that sounds about right. Mind you, the Hufflepuffs in your year are quite in awe of you for it. Seems like they've been hearing from the Gryffindors exactly what you've been saying." He cracked a quick grin. "Asking Snape if he wanted you to get him a subscription to Witch Weekly—well, it's no wonder you're a Gryffindor then, is it? I was a bit surprised when you didn't end up in Ravenclaw, but it all makes sense now."

"He was spouting horrid lies about my mum," Reva muttered quickly, feeling her face warm slightly with anger at the memory. "Anyway, I didn't call you over here to talk about smarmy old Snape." She hesitated for a moment before she asked quickly, "Did you pay attention when your dad was explaining Department procedure to you?"

Cedric's eyebrows shot up. He hadn't been expecting that, clearly. "Er—parts of it, yes." He said slowly. "What did you want to know?"

"Well," said Reva, eyes darting quickly over to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were all watching her and Cedric curiously, "If a Department member were to find out the whereabouts of an illegal magical pet, what do they do about it?"

"Depends," Cedric shrugged. "If it's an unregistered Niffler, or something like that, it's just a fine of ten Galleons or so. But if it's something larger and rarer, like a unicorn, then I'm pretty sure it's a stint in Azkaban—the minimum sentence is something like two months, I think."

Reva's heart thundered in her chest. If the illegal raising of a unicorn was enough for a couple of months in Azkaban, then raising a _dragon_ was sure to be upwards of a year of imprisonment. Hagrid _had_ to give up the dragon before Malfoy told anyone, or the charges brought against him would be very serious indeed.

"Why do you ask?" Cedric asked.

Reva opened her mouth, searching for an excuse. She couldn't think of anything. She closed her mouth with an audible click, smiling sheepishly at Cedric. "Would you believe me if I told you I had a Niffler hidden in my room?" She asked hopefully.

Cedric smiled. "Not for a second," he said honestly. "Try again."

"Harry Potter got a fully grown Crup to protect him from his horrible Muggle relatives," Reva tried.

Cedric chuckled. "Liar."

Reva was getting a little annoyed with Cedric now—it really wasn't any of his business, anyway—but she knew him well enough to know he didn't mean anything nosy or unkind by it, and she figured if she didn't play this off somehow, he might write to his dad, Amos, and that would certainly be a disaster.

"Alright, I'll tell you," Revati said, smiling to hide her nerves, hoping this would work. "There's a Cerberus puppy hidden in the school, and that's what's in the forbidden corridor."

Cedric just rolled his eyes. "Keep your secrets," he sighed, though a quick grin lingered on his handsome face. "If that was all, I'm going back to lunch."

"That was all," Revati confirmed. They parted ways with a quick goodbye, and Reva headed back over to her friends.

"Well?" Hermione asked impatiently.

"If Hagrid's caught with Norbert, he goes to prison," Reva told them quietly. "I don't think he knows that, so we'd better tell him. Hopefully _that_ will be enough to convince him to give the dragon up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright y'all so as it turns out i FULLY forgot that the department i had anjali work for was the same department amos diggory worked for, and i only realized it when i reread book four recently. i didn't want to have to deal with it then, bc obviously that would mean that cedric and reva knew each other this whole time but only magically started talking in goblet, which would feel very very awkward. i wasn't planning on a cedric/reva friendship but here we are i guess? that's what i get for making anjali a part of the ministry of magic i guess lol.
> 
> anyway, i know that nothing v interesting happened this chapter plotwise, but i'm trying to space out the rest of book one a teeny bit over a few chapters bc there's a lot that happens both plotwise and with reva's search for her dad. sorry it's dragging a bit, but i promise it'll move quicker soon :))
> 
> hope you guys enjoy! lmk what you think!
> 
> thanks for reading!


	14. Chapter Fourteen

It was that particular revelation, that he might have to serve time in Azkaban, that made Hagrid finally relent on the issue of the baby dragon. The question became what to do with Norbert now, and it had been Harry who’d come up with the brilliant idea of sending for Charlie Weasley. With that resolved, all the four Gryffindors had to do was wait for Charlie’s friends to pass through Hogwarts and hand the dragon over, where he could live a long and fulfilling life in Romania. 

On top of everything else, Reva was still searching for information on her father. She felt a little guilty, lying to her friends about what she was doing when Harry had Quidditch practice and Hermione was studying and Ron was engaging half of Gryffindor Tower in highly competitive chess games, but telling them she was serving multiple detentions for Snape was the best way to make sure she wouldn’t be questioned. It was true about a fourth of the time, anyway.

She’d told Fred and George half the truth, just as promised: she wanted to find out about a number of people who’d been in school with her mother. She said this group of people were a sensitive subject for Anjali, and Revati didn’t want to upset her by asking any nosy questions. She made it sound ambiguous, so it could be interpreted as Reva checking up on her mum’s old school mates and seeing how they fared during the war. Fred and George were clever, so she knew they probably considered the possibility that she was looking for her father, but since they didn’t know Reva had leads on his identity, she felt reasonably confident that they weren’t yet close to figuring her out. 

The twins had not wasted any time—two weekends following their conversation, Fred caused a distraction on the fourth floor by charming water balloons to drop on the heads of unsuspecting students, and George and Reva snuck into Filch’s office near the Entrance Hall while the caretaker and his cat hurried upstairs to take care of the commotion. Once inside, Reva pulled out her list and turned towards the filing cabinets in the corner. One was labeled, _Confiscated and Highly Dangerous,_ and the other seven or eight were marked, _Student Records._

George and Fred had told her that they’d first been sent here in their first year, after an incident with Dungbombs. They, of course, were more interested in the confiscated items cabinet, but the fact remained that Reva had guessed right—the Weasley twins knew where she needed to go. Every student had a file that was updated to the point of their graduation, and Reva had already calculated the years the eleven men would have finished their last year.

She walked around the cabinets, which seemed to be dated approximately by century. She found the one labeled _1901 - ? (2000)_ ; presumably, it would continue to store records for the next eight years, until the spring semester of the 1999-2000 school year. “Alohomora!” She said, unlocking the latch. She ignored George as he came up behind her, and instead began rifling through the files.

“How many are you taking, then?” He asked curiously.

“None of them,” Reva replied. She found Bartemius Crouch’s file and pulled out her wand. “Geminio!” She said. The file seemed to ripple, but it went back to normal almost immediately. “Worth a shot,” she shrugged. It was a third year spell that Hermione had read about—her friend had managed to do it, but Reva, though smart, was no genius. 

She turned to George and gave him a sheepish look. “Mind helping me out?” She gestured vaguely at the files.

George snorted, but moved over anyway. “Geminio,” he said, and a duplicate of Bartemius Crouch’s file popped into existence.

Reva and George worked swiftly together as Reva located the files and George copied them. About ten minutes passed, until finally George duplicated Deimos Burke’s file—he’d graduated in 1975, three years before Anjali. 

“Okay, we’re done,” Revati told him, stuffing the files in the bag. George gave her an amused look. 

“Are you going to tell me why we just duplicated and took a dozen files from Filch’s cabinet?”

“It’s only eleven, actually, not twelve—and I’m afraid that’s the half I’m not sharing unless this proves useful.” Reva replied.

George chuckled but backed off, closing the filing cabinet and twisting the lock. Then, quick as a flash, he turned to the cabinet with confiscated items, unlocked it, and grabbed eight or nine different things out of it, including what looked like a live salamander. Whistling, he backed away, locking it again, and turning back around to head out of Filch’s office with Reva. He cocked his head at the look of bemusement on Reva’s face.

“What?” He asked. “Didn’t expect Fred and I to get nothing out of this, did you?” He grinned, tossing what looked like an unexploded dungbomb cavalierly in his left hand. “Half of this was ours, anyway—Filch confiscated them.”

“And the other half?”

George grinned and winked.

Reva just rolled her eyes as she snorted. “Clearly my impression of you is too high,” she said.

“On the contrary, Kumar,” George shook his head. “Your expectations of us are too low.” He jerked his head to the door. “Shall we? I reckon we only have about two minutes to get out of here and bail Fred out.”

“Lead the way,” Reva said, shaking her head. 

They met up with Fred easily enough—it turned out that Peeves was wreaking havoc in another part of the castle, so Filch was held up with that—and the three Gryffindors slipped away behind a tapestry, trying hard to outrun the stench of Dungbomb behind them.

They’d made it out of the corridor and up a flight of stairs when a certain thought struck Reva.

“Er… George?” She asked hesitantly. “Fred?”

“Hm?” Fred asked distractedly, brown eyes scanning around for Filch.

“Do you—do you two mind not, er, telling anyone about this?”

That caught their attention. Curiosity burned in Fred’s gaze as he and George looked down at her, identical brows furrowed. She shifted slightly, aware of how suspicious she looked.

“Are you in trouble, Kumar?” George asked quietly. He looked uncharacteristically serious. “Real trouble, I mean, not the good kind.”

“No, no!” Reva said, voice. “It’s nothing like that. Promise,” she added firmly, seeing the disbelieving expression on George’s face. 

“Are you—” Fred began.

“I’m sure.” She said, and that was that.

Reva couldn’t help but feel as if she’d gotten away with something big as she slipped into the common room ten minutes later, her friends none the wiser to the duplicated files stuffed into her bag. Ron and Hermione were still playing chess, and Hermione was still losing. Harry had just come back from Quidditch practice. Reva slipped upstairs for a short minute, making up an excuse of wanting to bring Mango down for a bit, and put her files at the very bottom of her trunk for perusing when she had free time. Picking up her toad, she clambered back down to begin her homework, refusing to meet Fred and George’s eyes as they stared at her curiously from the corner of the common room.

* * *

Two days before they dropped off Norbert with Charlie, the dragon bit Ron, who had to go to the Hospital Wing to treat his infected hand. This meant that instead of all four first years, only Harry, Hermione, and Reva were going under the Invisibility Cloak to the North Tower to exchange the dragon. And to make matters more complicated, Ron had suddenly realized that Malfoy had access to Charlie’s letter, detailing a time and place.

“He borrowed my Astronomy textbook!” Ron groaned, putting his head into his heavily bandaged hands. “I was using Charlie’s letter as a bloody bookmark!”

“What do we do?” Hermione hissed.

“There’s not much we can do,” Harry said helplessly. “It’s too late to send another owl, isn’t it?”

“You’re right,” Reva sighed. “At least we’ve got your Cloak, Harry. Even if Malfoy spills, it’s not as if the professors would be able to catch us.”

At least, that was what they had thought that night, as Harry, Reva, and Hermione awkwardly lugged Norbert’s fireproof cage between them up the stairs to the castle and past the Great Hall. It was a difficult task, especially under the Invisibility Cloak, but Reva was quite grateful for it as they turned into the second floor corridor and saw two figures engaged in some sort of conflict in front of them.

“Detention!” Came a stern voice the three Gryffindors knew only too well. “And I’ll be taking twenty points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy!”

“But Professor!” Whined Draco Malfoy pathetically, “It’s Potter and Kumar! They’ve got an illegal dragon and they’re smuggling it—”

“What nonsense! I will be speaking with your Head of House, Mr. Malfoy, about telling such ridiculous lies. Two first years, illegally smuggling a dragon—what utter rubbish!” 

And the footsteps of the two faded away, with the sounds of McGonagall berating a complaining Malfoy echoing down the corridor.

Reva, Harry, and Hermione didn’t dare talk as they lugged the crate up the spiral staircase to the tallest tower in the castle. However unwieldy it was, balancing the dragon under the Cloak, it beat getting caught by McGonagall and proving Malfoy right. It took ten minutes to properly pull the crate up to the tallest tower, but once they did, Harry pulled the cloak off of the three of them in unrestrained relief.

“We did it!” Hermione whispered, not quite able to believe it. She did this odd sort of jig, which brought a smile to Reva’s face. “I can’t believe it! And Malfoy got caught!”

“Serves him right, the little sneak,” said Reva scathingly. She nudged Harry, who blinked at her and grinned, before squinting off into the distance.

“Are those Charlie’s friends?” He asked, peering at four figures who were approaching on broomsticks.

“Must be,” said Reva, glancing up at them.

Sure enough, the four people landed smoothly on the top of the tower, with Harry, Hermione, and Reva. None of them looked older than twenty, though to eleven year olds, that was still plenty grown up and intimidating. Still, they wore bright, mischievous looks on their faces, that put the trio at ease.

“Merlin’s pants!” Said one, who looked about nineteen. In the darkness, Reva could make out a pair of big eyes that glowed purple and widened when they landed on the trio, and choppy electric blue hair. “When Charlie said it was his little brother and his friends waitin’ for us, I assumed it was those troublemaking twins. I didn’t think he meant a bunch of firsties!”

Reva wanted desperately to laugh.

“You’ll have to excuse Tonks,” said another voice in exasperation, this one belonging to a twenty year old Black man. “They still have to learn to behave themself.”

“Oi, shut it, Kev,” said Tonks indignantly, shoving ‘Kev’ boisterously, “You’re starting to sound like old Mad-Eye!” 

Kev rolled his eyes, and began making introductions. “This is Callista—nope, hang on, Katerina, sorry, they’re identical—Callista’s on the other side there. I’m Kevin, and this loudmouth is Tonks.”

“Oi!” said Tonks again.

“Pleasure to meet you,” said Hermione politely. “I’m Hermione, and this is Revati and Harry.”

In the darkness, none of them seemed to notice Harry’s scar, or take note of his name. Instead, they seemed more interested in which one of them was related to their friend.

Katerina peered around curiously. “Where’s this baby Weasley, anyway?”

“Got bitten by Norbert a couple of days ago,” Reva answered. “He’s in the Hospital Wing.”

All four young wizards winced sympathetically. 

“Well, send him our best, anyway,” said Callista, glancing about. “You lot ought to be getting back to bed, shouldn’t you?”

“Ah, let them have their fun, Cal,” said Tonks, their purple eyes glinting with humor. Reva could have sworn she saw the edges of them flash a bright, happy yellow. “Don’t you miss running around the hallways at night, trying not to get caught?”

“Stop reminiscing, Tonks, we’re barely a year out,” Kev rolled his eyes again, though he was grinning teasingly. “Anyway, thanks a bunch, you three—I assume this is the dragon?” He nodded to the crate.

“That’s Norbert, all right,” Reva said, listening wryly to the sounds of the baby dragon tearing up one of the seven teddy bears Hagrid had placed inside his crate for him.

“We’ll grab it,” said Callista as she and her twin reached around the crate and began securing it on the sidecar of one of their brooms. “Kat and I are the ones headed to Romania, anyway—Kev and Tonks are just here to keep an eye out on things.” 

Tonks grinned. “Who would have thought that we’d break school rules even after graduating?” They sounded pleased with themself. They walked over to Cal and Kat to help them secure the dragon in the sidecar. Kev checked his watch.

“Well, we ought to get going. Tonks and I have to be back in London by morning, and these two should reach Romania by nightfall tomorrow if they don’t want an angry Ridgeback on their hands.” He shook his head in amused disbelief. “Of all the dragons to try to raise as a pet…”

“If anyone could have managed it, it’s Hagrid,” said Tonks fairly. “It’s just that…”

“He lives in a wooden house?” Harry pointed out wryly.

Everyone laughed. “Precisely,” said Cal. She mounted her broom. Her companions did the same, with Kat on the broom with Norbert’s sidecar attached. “Well, we’ll be off now. Nice meeting you, firsties!”

“You too!” The first years echoed. 

Charlie’s friends took off, and Harry, Hermione, and Reva watched as they shrunk into the distance. Then, elated by their success, they quietly snuck down the spiral staircase and made their way down the corridor. They were just about to start on the staircase that would take them to Gryffindor Tower, when— 

“Well, well, well,” said Filch’s voice as a lantern suddenly shone on their faces. “Looks like we are in trouble now.”

Reva could see realization dawning on Harry’s and Hermione’s faces just as it hit her: they’d forgotten the Invisibility Cloak back at the tallest tower.

* * *

**i'm back after a long time!!! dang it's been a while!!**

**hoping y'all are safe and healthy and happy! we're gonna get through this!**

**sending love to everyone who's not in the best place right now! <3 **

**as always, constructive criticism appreciated and welcomed!**


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